Left in Scarlet Wake
by Eurgh
Summary: Wanda's death was a tragedy. Now, everyone must come to terms with this death in his or her own way, and find honesty, love, and forgivenss through it all. Even though she's dead, lots of Wanda focus. C&C and Reviews are wanted. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1: She Never Would Have Died

**Howdy! I know, I've been hiding for a long time. Most of you probably haven't heard of me. I think the only thing anyone ever read by me is the Therapy stuff. Which I am still rewriting. Oh well. That is officially on hiatus. Anyway, here's my latest story. It's long, angsty, and annoying, so enjoy it. **

**Just a forewarning, you have to remember that teenagers, while they can accept death, usually don't believe it can really happen to them or anyone they know. Wanda's death shatters that innocent bubble and forces the X-Men/Brotherhood /Acolytes/Whoever else to realize that they can die too. So, while there's grief too, any that don't have personal connections have a reason to be shaken up. Yeah... **

**By the way: I like to ship Kurt/Wanda! Just a warning. Pairings are undecided, though. I haven't thought much about romance. Most chapters won't be this long, I can promise you that. Anyway, enjoy, read, and PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review! I'll at least look you up if you review- whether it's good, bad, or a flame. Constructive criticism would also be nice. Okay, anyway, loves and hugs and enjoy the story!**

Chapter One: She Never Would Have Died

Wanda Maximoff's death struck the X-Men hard. Under normal circumstances, it would have bothered them much more than the death of Pietro or St. John. The difference was that the senior X-Men (and Bobby, whom had taken Evan's place on the main team) witnessed the death.

If the scarlet teen never would have remembered, wouldn't have broken through Mastermind's lies, she never would have gone after Magneto.

She never would have died.

"Kitty! Major shoe sale! C'mon, let's head to the mall!" Jubilee called out to her friend as she stepped off the X-Jet. She was surprised when Kitty slowly shook her head, as though she were trying to grasp some forbidden fact, and trudged up to her room. Rogue was the next one off the jet, arms wrapped around herself as she mourned the loss of a girl who could have been a close friend.

Scott was the next X-Man off the plane. He was more shaken up over Wanda's death than any of the others. He suddenly knew that with battle came death- a fact that he was not ready to accept. He refused to so much as look at anyone in the mansion as he hurried to his room. Jean followed him off, pale and wide-eyed. She, having looked into the dying girl's mind and seen her thoughts, was not looking forward to the next battle or even danger session. Bobby stumbled off the plane after Jean. He stared blankly ahead of himself, ignoring his friends' hellos and concern, as he hurried to lock himself in his room.

Jubilee, still confused about her friend's behavior, stood in the hangar.

"Jubilee, are you coming?" Tabitha walked into the hangar with Amara and crossed her arms.

"Kitty doesn't wanna come. She seemed so…" Jubilee trailed off as Logan and Storm walked down the ramp and off the jet. They were holding something about as tall as Jean, if not taller, between them. A thick white sheet, stained with red here and there, was draped over it. Storm looked close to tears. This, however, wouldn't have been enough to silence the girls. In fact, Jubilee or Tabitha normally would have asked what it was. What stopped them from doing that was the long, pale arm dangling from the sheet, blood dripping from the fingertips to the floor.

Amara's breath caught in her chest. Tabitha studied the arm carefully, and tried to suppress a gasp when a small trickle of blood slowly slid down it. Jubilee was transfixed by horror.

"W-Who's that?" Tabitha finally squeaked, staring at the adults. She could eliminate Kitty, as Jubilee had mentioned Kitty didn't want to come. The arm was slender, and looked somewhat feminine in Tabitha's mind, which eliminated the boys. That left only Jean and Rogue.

"Don't worry 'bout it, Kid." Logan answered as Storm hurriedly pulled the arm back under the tarp. They left as quickly as they could, leaving the girls alone with their thoughts.

"I don't much feel like going to the mall anymore." Amara said a moment later. The other girls nodded their agreement.

No one noticed Kurt leave the jet solemnly.

"R-Rogue?" Kitty looked up as the door to her room opened, praying it was her roommate. She, like Rogue, had yet to change out of her uniform.

"Heya Kit." The other girl sat down on her bed.

"It's p-pretty silly of me to be crying w-when I didn't really know her, isn't it? I m-mean, she wasn't m-my friend or anything…" Kitty wiped away tears and gave her friend a helpless grin.

"Kitty-cat, we were there when she died. It's natural to wanna cry." Rogue shrugged as she settled on her bed. She wondered briefly if she had drawn those words from Storm's psyche. "Hell, even_ I_ wanna cry."

"Then why d-don't you just cry?" Kitty looked at her like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Rogue just smiled at her sadly. "I'm gonna go, l-like, call Lance."

And once Kitty was gone, Rogue allowed herself to cry for a girl killed before her time, a girl who could have been more if anger hadn't destroyed her.

Scott Summers was furious. He didn't quite know who (or what, for that matter) had invoked this fury, but it was there, constantly nagging at the back of his mind. He hated himself for not somehow stopping Wanda's death- after all, he certainly didn't wish death on her. Maybe defeat, but never did he want someone to die.

Especially a teenage girl, someone just younger than himself.

He shuddered. It could have been any of them that died- it could have been Jean. The one person in the world he would spend his whole life with could have been killed that day. Or innocent and intelligent Kitty, the life of any party. Kurt, who always knew just what to say to make someone feel better and laugh. Rogue, the cranky but tender girl he had come to think of as a sister. Even Bobby would have been hard to lose.

The worst part was that, even as team leader, he wouldn't have been able to stop it anymore than he stopped Wanda's death.

That's why he was angry.It was only partly for the girl that had died- the rest was because, if he couldn't stop this, he would never be able to stop the deaths of anyone important to him.

If any one of his team mates- his family- died, he would lose a piece of himself too. It didn't occur to him that _he_ could die as well, and that they felt the same way.

Bobby wanted to laugh and joke. He wanted to go freeze the girls' bathroom or watch a movie with his friends. Most of all, he wanted to erase Wanda Maximoff from his memory. In fact, the entire fight would be a wonderful thing to forget.

"C'mon, Bobby! You're gonna miss the game!" Sam knocked on their bedroom door as he hurried outside. The guys had planned on playing a game of football after he returned from the mission- but, this was before Bobby was exposed to real death (as opposed to a pet or grandparent dying).

"I'll catch up in a minute!" He called out, trying to make his voice sound happy and lighthearted. He unzipped his uniform with shaking fingers as he quickly changed into jeans and a T-shirt. A few minutes later, he was outside, playing a silly game with his friends to forget the day.

"Lance?" Kitty took a deep breath when she heard the phone pick up on the other end.

"No, this is Pietro."

"Oh… Pietro… I-It's Kitty." She stammered. This was the dead girl's _brother_! It was going to be hard enough just to tell Lance. She had hoped he would tell Pietro.

"I'll go get Lance- sounds like Kitty-cat's gonna whine again!" Pietro's laugh was carefree and arrogant.

"No! I… I think you'll wanna hear this first." The sensitive valley girl had finally conquered her tears before the phone call. Now, they threatened to fall again.

"Hurry it up, Kit-Cat. I gotta go, and you're boring." Pietro used the tone of someone inspecting his or her fingernails.

"It's Wanda…" Kitty tried to decide how to tactfully say that his sister was dead.

"What? She beat you guys up again?" Pietro laughed again, obviously enjoying the mental picture.

"No." She was in tears by that point.

"Then what? Why the hell are you crying? Get to the point, or I'm hanging up on you." Pietro was irritable. She was wasting his time to blubber in his ear about who knew what.

"Wanda's dead, Pietro. H-Her body's here. She died fighting your father and the Acolytes." Kitty whispered.

Click!

Kitty stared dumbly at the phone in her hand. Pietro hung up on her. She set the phone back in its cradle and walked into the living room. She sat down on the cough and stared numbly at the black TV screen.

Jean ran a brush through her hair for the hundredth time. She wanted- needed- to brush all the grime of battle out of her hair. Maybe it would help her forget. The brush clanged to the floor as she dropped it. She then peeled her uniform off her sweaty skin and stepped into the scalding shower.

She began to scrub viciously at her skin, trying to clean the day- and the memories- away. She only succeeded in rubbing her skin raw. She still felt the utter sense of betrayal issued from Wanda as an Acolyte, employed by the girl's _father_, delivered the final blow to her life.

Jean shivered, even in the scalding heat, and one again considered asking- no, begging- the professor to erase her memories of Wanda's dying mind. And, one again, she knew it wouldn't be fair to Wanda's memory to forget her last thoughts. She remembered a very brief feeling of contentment and love emitted from the girl before the pain set in. Every time she recalled the feeling, she thought of Kurt, and wondered why. She remembered Kurt had rushed to her side, even in the heat of battle, and held her hand until she was dead.

And she suddenly realized why Kurt had refused to even acknowledge anyone on the flight home. She wondered how _she_ would feel if Scott had died, and shuddered. She couldn't ever lose Scott.

Far in a different corner of the mansion, a blue demon wept for the death of his soul mate, and for the secrets they never revealed.


	2. Chapter 2: Easier to Lose

**Howdy! This is Chapter Two. Yeah, this story will probably be updated every 8 to 10 days. The reason being is that I usually write it out on paper, type it up, and edit for one day after this. That takes such an amount of time. Then, with lag and all. Anyway, thank you to April for reviewing and SpeedDemonRox for putting me on alert. Although, this got 39 hits. So, please, just review. Even if you hated it, okay? And, by the way, I will be continuing this.**

**Without further ado, here's the story!

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Chapter Two: Easier to Lose**

Pietro slammed the phone down on the Pryde girl. He didn't want to hear her apologizing. He didn't want to hear her, or any of the X-Men for that matter, lying and pretending to care. They didn't know Wanda; they would never care. He felt tears stinging his eyes.

And, just like that, he convinced himself that it was a lie. A silly little lie, something made up by the X-Men just to piss him off. Which brought anger. His sister was _not_ dead! Wanda could never die- she was invincible. She would be the last member of the Brotherhood to die. He was sure of it.

He decided to head over that Xavier Institute and show them exactly whom they were dealing with.

"Where're you goin', yo?" Todd asked as Pietro headed for the door.

"X-Jerks' place." Pietro answered shortly.

"Why?" Todd wondered why anyone would go there. Pietro was the last person he would expect to go over to the mansion (unless it was to pull a prank, of course).

"To tell them in person that I don't like being lied to." Pietro replied as he slammed the door.

"That was weird, yo."

Kitty finally looked up from the blank TV screen when there was suddenly a body in front of her.

"Pietro?" She gaped.

"Pryde, I don't want you X-Jerks playing tricks on me!" The silver-haired demon glared at Kitty. She looked confused for a moment before it clicked. He was in denial.

"N-No, Pietro! I wouldn't lie to you about something like that! Her body's, like, in the infirmary right now." Kitty stood up and reached out to touch his shoulder. However, he had vanished.

Pietro stopped still at the door of the infirmary. His sister was lying on a bed, paler than he'd ever seen her before. She had a nasty scrape across bare shoulder leading down under the tarp covering her body. Small bruises and cuts decorated her body (well, what Pietro could see of it anyway). He briefly hoped that at least Jean or Kitty had been the ones to undress her. He couldn't tell what exactly had killed her. The worst part (for him) was to see that she was completely still. Her chest wasn't moving.

He took a cautious step into the room, followed by another. In an instant, he was at her side. Pryde hadn't lied to him. His invincible sister was dead.

"Mr. Maximoff, I am very sorry for your loss." A smooth voice interrupted his thoughts. The voice of Professor Charles Xavier- the very _last_ person Pietro felt like dealing with.

"No, you're not." Pietro turned to face the man. Hank McCoy was standing with him. "You X-Men like to say pretty things, but you have never cared even a little bit about us. My sister is _dead_! Your pretty words can't fix that."

The room was silent for a moment. Xavier considered telling him of his many useless sessions with Wanda when she was in the asylum. He knew it would only further infuriate the boy.

"What're you going to do with her body?"

"What would she have wanted?" Xavier asked. Pietro looked uncomfortable, and looked down.

"I have no idea."

"I suppose you will want to choose the date of her funeral?"

"Just ask, like a regular person." Pietro muttered. "Just… tell me when it is."

"Very well."

The room was silent once again. Pietro's eyes kept wandering to his sister, willing her to move, willing her to breathe.

"How'd she die?"

"During a battle with your father, Wanda interrupted. Apparently, she had somehow regained her memories." Xavier began. Pietro remembered. It was only the past morning. She had overheard a conversation between Magneto and himself, discussing what to do if Mastermind's illusions ever fell apart. It triggered her memories.

She had been furious.

"Sabretooth tried to stop her from reaching Magneto by attacking her from behind. Needless to say, the surprise attack was fatal. Otherwise, your sister could have easily defended herself." Xavier finished.

He didn't find it necessary to mention that Sabretooth's claws had ripped through her chest before she even had the chance to respond to the feral roar behind her. He didn't want to describe her final minutes as she fought back and ended up slammed into the wall (thus scraping her shoulder).

"You better treat her body with respect until the stupid funeral."

And Pietro left the Institute without waiting for a reply. He was numb. He couldn't feel, he couldn't think, he couldn't breathe!

BAM!

Lance looked up as the door slammed. Pietro stood in the doorway, staring blankly ahead as he tried to move. Somehow, setting foot in that house made it more real. His sister would never walk down the stairs demanding the first cup of coffee. She wouldn't roll her eyes and huff at him over something silly like the television channel. He would never hear a rare laugh or see the smile that always made him smile too.

He would never tell her how sorry he was.

"What's wrong with you?" Lance raised an eyebrow at the boy stationed in front of the door.

Pietro wanted to move his mouth to answer, but something stopped him. If he moved his mouth, the world would fall apart. He wondered what Wanda would have done. Knowing her, she would have announced the news, and locked herself in her room for three days.

"Pietro, don't be an asshole. Just answer me." Lance rolled his eyes. He had been woken up early by Todd franticly searching for Wanda.

"Fine. Guess what? My sister is dead! Sabretooth killed her trying to protect my father! She with the damn X-Geeks until the funeral because they have a place to keep her, and we don't!" Pietro snapped.

CRASH!

Both boys' heads turned to the kitchen. Todd's hands were shaking above the shattered plate on the ground.

"Sh-She's dead?"

"Yes, Toad, she was fucking mauled! And now her body is in some bed with the X-Geeks!"

Lance barely heard it when Pietro open and shut the door in super speed.

Todd bent down and began to pick up the glass. He was shocked. His Wanda- his "Cuddlebumps"- was dead. He winced when a piece of glass cut into his hand. He watched as red slowly welled up from the wound. Somehow, it didn't bother him.

He dumped the glass into the trash can and stood still as he tried to comprehend Wanda's death.

"You okay?" Lance asked. He had walked into the kitchen while Todd was cleaning up the glass.

"Yeah. My have is just bleedin' a little, yo." Todd shrugged.

"I meant… Um… Good." Lance looked away. Freddy, whom had been making a sandwich, looked at him and shrugged.

Todd didn't notice, and headed off to climb up the stairs. He passed _her_ room, and for the second time that day, his world fell apart. He knew it was true when he saw the shut door. Even worse, he knew he would probably never have the guts to go in there.

He took a few shaky stops and ended up slamming himself into the wall. For the first time in years, Todd Tolensky let tears fall outside of his bedroom. He sobbed, he wept, he slammed his fist into the ground. But it didn't make the truth less true. Nothing could.

Freddy and Lance exchanged a glance as the small boy climbed the stairs. Neither moved to follow him. Neither was brave enough to get anywhere near Wanda's room.

"I don't think I want that snack anymore." Fred said softly. He pushed his plate away and lumbered out to the living room.

Lance ran a weary hand through his hair. Wanda wasn't the glue that held the team together. The team didn't _have_ glue. It was all or none. If one member fell, they all fell with him. Wanda's death would upset Todd, but it would kill Pietro. And that would hurt Lance.

He looked at the now blaring TV, and knew he wouldn't be able to pay attention. He took a deep breath, walked over to the staircase, and began to climb up. He was surprised once he reached the top to see Todd doubled over, sobbing hysterically, and pounding his fist into the ground. His breath caught in his throat when he realized they were standing beside Wanda's room.

"Todd?"

"I loved her."

"I know."

Lance helped Todd to his feet and kept him from falling as they walked to his room. After Todd shut his door, Lance looked at Wanda's room.

"And here I always thought you'd be easier to lose."

Pietro didn't know where he was. He didn't care. After running about thirty miles, he was walking. He crossed a street slowly, ignoring the squeal of car tires and string of curses that followed.

He found himself at a bridge over the highway. It was busy, but in his depression, he didn't notice the cars passing by. He just stood and watched the cars speeding by below him.

Finally, he began to move again. He walked along the highway until it sunk in that his sister was dead. Then he ran.

"Where the hell have you been?" Lance demanded as Pietro opened the door.

"Out."

"Look, I know you're upset about your sister, but we were wor-"

"Worried?" Pietro interrupted with a raised eyebrow. "Afraid I'd do something drastic like commit suicide? I'm smarter than that, jerk!"

"You were gone for four hours! What were we supposed to think?" Lance hissed.

"I don't feel like dealing with you." Pietro truned to head up the stairs.

"Tough." Lance grabbed his arm. "You can't pull shit like this, especially now!"

"Why? 'Cause my sister's dead and suddenly I'm a wreck?" Pietro jerked his arm away. "I've been a wreck since I lost her the first time."

Pietro began to walk up the stairs. It was the first time Lance had ever seen him walk anywhere when he had the chance to run.


	3. Chapter 3: Flick

**After my freaky hiatus on this story, it's back much later than it should be. Sorry! I guess it WAS a long update, feartoxin. This is more of a relief chapter, as there was quite a bit of angst in the past two. This is a little more humorous, a little less angsty. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter Three: Flick**

_Flick._

Remy placed the last card of his Solitaire game into place.

_Flick._

Piotr's pencil scratched across the previously pale paper, drawing the likeness of a girl they all knew was dead.

_Flick._

The cards had been arranged into the deck by this point.

_Flick._

"John, if y' don' stop playin' wit' y're lighter, Remy's gonn' kill y'!" Remy snapped at his team mate. St. John snapped his lighter closed, and stared at the black TV screen. He was slumped over in an arm chair, a silver Zippo in one hand and the remote control in the other.

"Whatever, mate."

Piotr glanced up at his comrades. Tensions had been high ever since they returned from that stupid battle. Magneto and Sabretooth had disappeared in a flurry of yelling and threats. He doubted he would see the feral man in good health for a few weeks. He glanced at his paper. There was a likeness of Wanda on it, glaring at something beyond his perception.

Silence fell heavily over the metal dome. Even Piotr felt somewhat uncomfortable with it. Finally, John pushed the power button on the remote, bringing the black box in front of him to life.

_"This is the scene over by the old warehouse in downtown Bayville. Apparently, two groups of mutants caused a disturbance. One is the well-known group from our hometown, the X-men. Not much is known about the-"_

John quickly changed the channel.

_"Alright, answer this question for $16,000…"_

The television blared on, filling the room with light and noise. Remy began to deal out another solitaire game. Piotr returned to his sketching, carefully appraising it as only an artist can. John was lost to another world, after being forbidden to "play" with his lighter.

"Do y' t'ink ol' Buckethead's gonn' kill de Kitty-Cat?" Remy asked after some time had passed.

"I hope so, mate." John muttered. Piotr replied with a shrug.

"Wonder what de _homme _was t'inkin'." Remy charged a card, and let it go. After the expected explosion, the ashes drifted harmlessly to the ground. "She _was_ de boss's _fille._"

"Shut up, Rem." John snapped.

And once again the only sound in the room was the annoying host.

Wanda's funeral was to be held at the Institute. The reasoning supposedly was the fear of protestors interrupting the grieving family and friends, but Kitty secretly wondered if it was just to try to be open with the Brotherhood.

It was the first time since her Grandfather's funeral that she had worn black. She was ten when she attended said funeral, and didn't understand anything that was said or meant. She just knew her grandfather was gone. Now, she wished she were younger again and still didn't understand.

"You look nice, Kitty-Cat." Rogue cracked a tired smile at her roommate.

"You too." Both girls were dressed entirely in black. Rogue's face was still caked in makeup, but Kitty's was more absent of the stuff.

"Where are you gonna sit?" Kitty asked a second later.

"If I can, with Pietro and the Brotherhood."

"Why?" Kitty was genuinely surprised. Rogue had never said anything about ever liking the boys.

"You guys always forget I lived with them- they were once my only friends." Rogue smiled. "I haven't talked to them since I left, though. Except to fight with 'em with y'all, or whenever I'm with one of you."

"Oh." Kitty went back to trying to coax a high heeled shoe onto her foot.

"Hope they don't hate me." Rogue sighed aloud. "Where're you gonna sit?"

"With Lance, if Scott doesn't throw a big fit about it or something like that." Kitty shrugged.

Nothing more was said between the two girls as they prepared for the funeral.

"Why is this funeral such a big deal to you anyway?" Ray rolled his eyes as Bobby straightened his tie. Xavier had purchased suits and the like for the students for when formal things came up such as this (though he doubtfully was thinking of funerals).

"No reason. I just, uh, feel bad for her. Dead so early and without warning." Bobby hid his discomfort with conversation with ease. He hadn't talked about what had happened the day she died to anyone- hadn't even allowed himself to think of it. And now, with her funeral, he had to remember that stupid day.

"Whatever, man! Since when do you care about crap like that?" Ray laughed. He was wearing a suit (begrudgingly), but the shirt wasn't tucked in. "We don't even know how she died. Maybe she killed herself- then, no pity!"

"She didn't kill herself." Bobby rolled his eyes. "I, um, heard she died in battle."

"Aw, man, creepy!" Ray shuddered. "And you're out with the main team now!"

"Don't remind me." Bobby laughed despite the grave situation.

"If you die, can I have your stuff?" Ray asked.

"Hey!"

"What? I mean, now that we know it's a possibility, you oughta make a will. Just leave everything to me!"

"Fine, whatever."

"Sweet!"

"Aren't you supposed to be my best friend?" Bobby raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah." Ray shrugged. "That's why I get all your stuff!"

Dead. Gone forever. She would never laugh again, she would never warn him about her crazy brother. Kurt sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Wanda was gone, and he couldn't bring her back. The stupid funeral couldn't bring her back, only push her into the ground and let worms eat her.

He reached for his holowatch, already wearing the suit, and faltered. She always did say she liked him better blue anyway…

He wondered if he would be able to hold it together in the funeral. He wondered if he could keep it a secret how much he loved her. He hoped he could. He hoped he could pretend she was just another enemy, someone he wouldn't cry for.

Somehow, he doubted he could do that (especially with two telepaths in attendance).

With a sigh, he teleported from the room down to the foyer.

"Pie." Todd knocked on Pietro's bedroom door. "C'mon, Pie, it's time to go."

"Screw you, Toad. I can go whenever the hell I want to!"

"Aw, man, come on. Do you want us to leave you behind, yo?" Todd groaned in frustration. Pietro, ever since returning from the X-Geek's place, had been in his room. It had been a couple of days, and even Todd- caught in his own depression- was worried.

"I can run. I'll still make it without a hair out of place. Hop along, Slime-ball, and get a life."

"Fine." Todd turned around angrily. That Pietro was being a jerk when he needed his team- his brothers- most! And when they needed him the most too.

"Ready to go?" Lance asked as he came down the stairs. He was dressed in the suit he had worn to the dance, as he didn't have another. Xavier had found black suits for the others, as theirs weren't black.

"Yeah." Todd sighed, and headed for the door.

"Hey, I know you miss her." Lance looked at him. "We all do. Just… Um, you're not the only one. Kay?"

"Yeah. Got it. Don't do anything stupid like kill myself." Todd grinned sheepishly.

"I didn't say that."

"You meant it, yo." Todd pointed out.

"Get in the car. Freddy's already out there." Lance glared at the younger boy.

Pietro watched the car speed away from his window. It had taken them long enough (in his eyes) to leave the house! He planned to leave about a minute before the funeral started- plenty of time for the silver speed demon.

He sighed and walked across his room to the door. It was now or never- preferably never, in his point of view, but he wanted to bring his sister something special for her funeral, even if she didn't know it.

And with that, he opened his door, and made his way down the hallway to a room too taboo to enter while the boys were in the house.

"Hey Lance!" Kitty hurried to her boyfriend as he walked in the door. She gave him a quick hug, and pulled back with a weak smile. "You look nice."

"Thanks." Lance's voice sounded more tired and sad than Kitty had ever heard it. "You too."

"Um, hi." Rogue was standing behind Kitty.

"Hi, yo." Todd looked at his former housemate. "What're you up to now?'

"Just the usual stuff." Rogue shrugged. And she was back in with her former friends. "I'll show y'all to your seats." She lead Todd and Freddy away, but Kitty grabbed Lance's hand before he could leave.

"How are you, like, holding up?" She asked nervously, pulling on a strand of her hair.

"Just fine." Lance looked at her, They both knew he was lying- but neither cared. Kitty had heard what she needed to hear; her boyfriend was doing alright even though his "sister" was dead. And Lance was glad to be able to at least pretend to be fine with his girlfriend.

"Remy don' see _why_ we're comin' here." Remy grumbled as he and his two teammates disarmed the gate to get inside of the Xavier Institute. "Dey hate us."

"We are here for our comrade." Piotr gestured gently to John.

"So suck it up, and take one for your friend, mate." John snapped. "'Sides, _someone_ had to show up in ol' Maggie's place. Just flirt with you X-Sheila friend, mate."

This reply seemed to satisfy Remy. The gate was disarmed within another minute, and the trio was walking up the driveway. It seemed the X-Men had disarmed their lasers to allow the Brotherhood a free passage into their home.

"What are you doing here?" Jean snapped as the Acolytes walked in. Any noise in the room immediately stopped as all heads turned to stare at the three unwanted guests.

"Is dat anyway to treat y'r guests?" Remy taunted with a smile. Rogue groaned- the Cajun, apparently, was not going to just shut up and leave. Of course, one must wonder why she even assumed such a thing of him in the first place.

"You're _not_ guests." Scott glared at them as he wrapped a protective arm around his girlfriend. "So leave."

"Hey, hey!" John interrupted the argument obviously about to ensue. "_Someone _had to come in Magneto's place, mate. She _was _his daughter."

"What a surprise!" Pietro was suddenly standing beside John. "Dear old Father's not going to be here! Too guilty, perhaps? Where's his pet kitty?"

"What the hell are you holding?" Lance choked. In Pietro's right hand was a single red rose.

"A red rose? Red was her favorite color. _Scarlet _Witch, remember?" Pietro rolled his eyes. All the jokes and sarcasm- it was just a façade to hide any emotions beyond his exterior.

"Not that!" Lance growled. In his other hand, Wanda's usual gothic cross necklace hung from his fingers. She had forgotten it on the day of her death. It had been in her room.

"What does it look like?" Pietro snapped. "She may be dead, but she deserves to at least wear something she liked- not some torn up outfit from battle or whatever the hell these idiots dressed her in."

He walked up to the open coffin, and bent over to clip the necklace around her neck. He planted a final, soft kiss on her forehead.

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**Okay, funeral's next chapter. So I can promise you lots and lots of angst. Hopefully this was enough of a break to let me do that! **

**Review, as always! Please? I have strep throat, make me feel better!**


	4. Chapter 4: The Perfect Sister

**More reviews last chapter! Huzzah! It inspired me to write this even though I was sore and tired! Which explains any mistakes! This is the funeral chapter. Believe it or not, it's not the end! There's more to come!**

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**Chapter Four : The Perfect Sister**

"Wanda was a troubled girl." Xavier began the "sermon" softly. The students and teachers were strewn across the lawn. The funeral was being held out by the gazebo. The sun was shining merrily on the congregation, oblivious to the man scowls directed at it for _daring_ to shine on such a sad day. Many of these scowls were also directed at Ororo.

"She was vengeful, angry, and unpredictable- at least, in appearance. In all honesty, she was simply confused and hurting. She took comfort in the friendships of some, and the love of few. But- it was still love." Xavier's gaze was directed at Kurt for a moment, before switching over to the members of the Brotherhood.

"She didn't deserve the hand life dealt her. She did the best she could with what was given to her-"

"Why exactly was I not informed of the girl's funeral, let alone her death?" A sharp voice interrupted the sermon. All gazes swiveled to behind the chairs where Agatha Harkness stood, dressed in an old black dress. Her glare was severe and level, unwavering.

"Agatha, we had no way of contacting you. Please, take a seat." Xavier answered coolly. The old woman sat down.

"I would have at least expected Raven to tell me."

"How'd she _know_?" Ray whispered to Bobby.

"I have my ways, child. Do not expect any less." The firm gaze was now turned to Ray. He shrank in his seat.

"Just curious. Yeesh."

"Can we _please_ move on with my sister's funeral?" Pietro demanded. His hands were clenched in his lap, leaving his knuckles white from the tight grip.

"As I was saying, she did the best she could with what was given to her. She was a good person, even if she tried to hide it." Xavier rolled to the back, offering others the chance to speak about Wanda.

"Plenty was given to the child- power. She just didn't have time to fully learn to control it." Agatha spoke softly in the back. "I blame her father for that."

Pietro couldn't help but agree. He _loathed_his fatherfor avoiding the funeral. He hated everything about the man. It was only partly because he had been the cause of Wanda's death (in his own mind, anyway. What did it matter if Sabretooth delivered the killing blow when he was employed by Magneto?). He hated him for separating him from his sister. He hated him for never letting him- his own _son_- be good enough.

And, he hated him because it was that awful man's fault that Wanda had hated her own twin brother.

Once he though about it, there was no doubt in his mind that his father had been the one that caused his sister's death. After all, _he_ had locked her away in the asylum. _He_ caused the rage that sent her out to try to kill him. And _he_ didn't stop Sabretooth from taking the teenage girl's life.

Pietro snapped from his "reverie" (after all, he was only thinking about how much he loathed his own father- did that mean he would end the same way Wanda had?) when a gloved hand squeezed his shoulder.

"Mind if the original "Brotherhood Babe" sits down with you?" A southern voice asked softly. He just shrugged. Rogue took this as an invitation to sit down in between Lance and the speed demon.

"Um… hi." Kurt was standing at the front of the room. Kitty cocked her head in confusion. Had her friend even _met_ Wanda outside of combat? Jean just smiled sadly, and took Scott's hand with both of hers.

She would _never _lose Scott.

Never.

"I know most of you are thinking something along the lines of: "Did he even know her? Why does he care?". Ja?" He tried to crack a smile, but it came across as a grimace. "Wanda gave me back the statue of my mother."

"Which I shoved off a cliff a few hours later." Rogue whispered sheepishly. Lance choked back a small laugh. Even in sadness, it was nice to see _some_ justice in the world. The blue witch had gotten what she deserved.

"She didn't care that I looked like a demon- though, she did sort of care about the whole "opposite sides and X-men" thing." Kurt smiled fondly. Jean's grip on Scott's hand tightened. He glanced at the redhead and she gave him a smile laced with sadness and- strangely- fear. She wasn't fooling him- something was off.

"We sort of became… friends. And, even though it sounds clichéd, I won't forget her or her offer of l... little bit of friendship." Kurt hoped no one had caught his slip-up. "Wanda was a good person, and a better friend. I hope she'll be remembered for her wonderful qualities."

Xavier had, surprisingly, paid for a plot in a _real_ cemetery. This surprised at least the members of the Brotherhood- they had expected her to be buried on Institute grounds (which would, quite honestly, have been horrible for the boys.).

As the closed casket was slowly lowered into the ground, Pietro had to look away. He didn't want to watch his sister be locked away again- this time with absolutely no chance of returning.

He had planned to save her from that horrible place when he was old enough. He really had. He'd made at least two dozen different plans- but she would have been safe. And he chickened out on every single one of them. His father would never hear of it, and he was too afraid to do anything without his father's approval. Then, he moved to New York City, and promptly shoved his sister out of his mind.

He now wished he had followed through on them.

And, now as the dirt was being shoveled on the casket, he wanted to call out and beg them to stop, just let him spend another minute alone with his sister- or, rather, her cadaver. And, once again, he stood as she was taken away, this time beneath the soil- a place reserved only for the dead. A moment later, he remembered that she was, in fact, dead.

"Pietro, we're headin' back to the Institute for a while- just to, y'know, grab the flowers and stuff." Lance pulled Pietro's attention back to reality.

"And to get comfort from your precious Kitty-Cat. You go. I'll run home or to the Institute or wherever the hell you guys are later." Pietro shrugged nonchalantly.

"Fine, man. Whatever." Lance headed back to his jeep behind the others. And Pietro was left alone with his sister.

Kurt was depressed. Scratch that- he was beyond depressed. Once everyone had returned to the Institute, he had tried to stick to the shadows and corners. He wanted to avoid the world- reality, where his Wanda was dead.

He hated this lousy funeral. She deserved better- she at least deserved to have her own father there. He hated that he couldn't make himself leave the reception because he wanted to honor her and her memory. He hated himself for not being able to admit, even now, that he loved her to anyone else.

"Hey Kurt." Kitty put a hand on the blue mutant's shoulder. He jumped, and turned around.

"_Katzchen_, you shouldn't sneak up on people like that!" Kurt feigned a smile. "Someday, Rogue with accidentally hit you when you do that."

"That was, like, a really nice speech." Kitty smiled at her friend. "She would have liked it."

"You don't know that." Kurt raised an eyebrow. The unspoken "because you didn't know her" was felt only by him.

"But _you_ do." Kitty replied without batting an eye. "It's funny- I'm, like, your best friend and I had no idea you two were friends."

She spied Lance, tossed Kurt another smile, and hurried to her boyfriend's side.

"We didn't want you to know."

Jean's vice like grip on Scott had not loosened. If anything, she was keeping him closer to her. Something had completely shaken her up. Scott intended to find out what exactly that was.

"Jean, what's bothering you?" He asked her softly. She replied via telepathy.

'I'm just, um, stressed with Wanda's death and all. It's just strange and hard to handle.'

'So you've decided that keeping me close will make it better?'

'I just don't want to lose you like we all lost Wanda.'

Scott wondered why he was suddenly thinking of Kurt.

'Come on, Jean. I know you better than that- what's really bothering you.'

'I couldn't bear to lose you, Scott.'

'What makes you even think of losing me?'

The couple began to walk over to the refreshments table, lost in yet another telepathic conversation.

'Kurt lost _her_.'

'What do you mean?'

"I hate it when they do that whole "telepathic conversation" crap." Tabitha rolled her eyes as they walked by, deep in their conversation. She was standing by Todd. "So, how are you holding up?"

"I loved her."

"Don't need to say anything more than that." Tabitha gave him a tentative hug, wrinkling her nose once her face was out of sight.

"Thanks, man. For someone who used to bust into the bathroom all the time, you ain't so bad." Todd sighed when she let go.

"You're not too bad yourself, Smelly. Don't kill yourself or anything, kay?"

"Alright."

The Rogue was not called such for crying. She was not supposed to cry- it went against all law in the universe. She was supposed to be mean, snide, and sarcastic. This was the entire reason Rogue was hiding behind the stairs as she cried- appearances had to be kept up, especially with the Acolytes about.

"Why would y' ruin such a _belle _face wit' cryin'?" A voice asked softly.

"Goddamn Cajun- why can't you leave me alone?" Rogue snapped, quick to brush away tears. She couldn't hide the dark lines of mascara, eyeliner, and eye shadow on her cheeks, or the red puffiness of her eyes. The act was completely pointless.

"Y' don' wann' be left all 'lone wit' sad t'oughts, do y'?" Remy asked as he sat down next to her.

"Yes. I do." She replied. "Get lost."

"So, are y' really sad?" Remy ignored her command as only he could (and get away with it). "Or de psyches of de speed demon an' ol' Maggie bot'erin' y'?" Remy could scarcely believe he had just used St. John's nickname for Magneto. "A mixture of bot', perhaps?"

"None of your business, Swamp Rat." Rogue replied.

"Ah, so it _is _a mixture o' bot'." Remy smiled. "_Mon chere, _y' oughtta jus' stop t'inkin' 'bout it and try t' live y'r own life."

"I ain't your "dear"." Rogue snapped. She was obviously still trying to hold back tears.

"Y'r pointedly ignorin' Remy's advice!" Remy wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"No, I'm not. And get your arm off my shoulder!" Rogue shrugged out of his grip. Remy caught sight of the beginning of tears again, and did something no other man would do.

He hugged The Rogue.

Pietro had been standing in silence for a long time. After all, what was there to say to someone who couldn't hear you? What was there to say even when they were alive? All the nice words in the world wouldn't bring her back- when she was alive, they wouldn't take away the hurt anyway.

"I'm so sorry, Wanda. For everything."

With that, he began to jog toward the exit. The jog began to speed up to a run, and the run to a sprint. In an instant, he was running faster than ever before. He could outrun death. And he could outrun sadness.

A grey headstone stood on top of a freshly dug grave.

"Wanda Maximoff : Even broken, never forgotten."

In red scrawling script, something had been added.

"The perfect sister."

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**Well, there's another chapter. It's not the last, believe it or not. I know a few people may have been expecting me to write this big scene with Pietro breaking down at her grave telling her how much she meant to him, and all that good stuff. it, however, was far too cliched for me. And, Pieteo is plain not the type to do that. **

**He doesn't strike me as someone who really likes to display emotions. He will have his little break down- his sister is dead, it's inevitable. But it won't be by her grave.**

**As for everything else, anyone who reviews gets a preview of the next chapter before it's published! I promise! Thanks for the reviews, guys! And for those of you reading and not reviewing- hopefully you're at least enjoying the story.**


	5. Chapter 5: Will Anyone Even Remember Me?

**Howdy! Alright, this is my last chapter for something like two weeks. I'm off to band camp! **

**At the beginning, it seems like it doesn't fit with the story. But, it does. Trust me. I've made sure this is the right document.**

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**Chapter Five: Will Anyone Even Remember Me?**

"Magma over to Boom Boom. Do you copy?"

"Yeah, 'Mara. I hate the stupid way Scooter makes us talk- so, stop it." Tabitha replied through her com-link, with a roll of the eyes.

"Tabby, have you seen anyone? We _are_ supposed to be rescuing the main team from Magneto." Amara told her friend nervously. This was her first _true_ danger session- private sessions with Jean didn't really count.

"Who cares? It's a Danger Room session." Tabitha replied.

"Tabitha!"

"Calm down, girl."

Amara sighed. This would have been easier if Bobby was still team leader- she trusted him to keep her safe. She only knew Tabitha, Bobby, and Roberto well. She was nervous having Sam as team leader. Normally, the job would have gone to Tabitha (considering she had seniority), but her wild actions had lost the job for her.

"I've seen Jean." Sam's voice came over the com links.

Jean sat by a set of crates, bound at the hands and ankles. Her eyes were closed, and her head rested gently on her chest.

"Then free her, stupid." Tabitha laughed. "It's our "mission", right?"

"Boom Boom, shut up!"

Sam ran to the "unconscious" girl (this was, after all, a Danger Room session. She had to act as such). As he was untying her hands and ankles, a shadow looming above them caught his attention.

Magneto (or, rather, a robotic hologram of the man) hovered above them, prepared to bring the young mutants down.

Jean's eyes snapped open, and Sam helped her stand up. She stared at Magneto a moment longer than she should have, and shook some unknown thoughts from her mind.

"Um… Backup requested immediately." Sam spoke into his microphone. It was much harder than most people thought trying to remember the "correct" way to speak when on a mission.

"Let's get ready to fight!" Tabitha's voice cut into everyone's com-links gleefully as she charged towards Jean's location.

With a feral growl, Sabretooth suddenly charged from behind a crate, followed shortly by the different Acolytes from all directions.

Jean's eyes widened, and she spun around. Sabretooth- claws tearing through her gut, pain ripping through her body, red and blood everywhere. Was this the end? Had Agatha been right- was her rage really to be her downfall? Everything hurt- she couldn't breathe.

A shallow gasp for air, a desperate hand trying to claw at the air. Was Pietro angry at her still for leaving? Would she die her last words to her brother hateful and angry? Was her father watching her bleed, cold and unfeeling as always? A hand grabbing hers, warm tears on her face, desperate words-

"End session!" Jean shouted out. "Stop it!"

The scenery around them vanished, as did their enemies.

"Red, what's the deal? I was about to blow Magneto outta the park!" Tabitha smiled at the older girl. In all honesty, she was glad for an end to the boring session, but Jean was too much fun to tease.

"Are you alright?" Scott was at her side in an instant, shooting Tabby a dirty look. She just shrugged and smiled innocently.

"I-I'm fine. I just saw Sabretooth a-and…" Jean trailed off. Reliving Wanda's dying thoughts had _not _been on the agenda. She grimaced, and put a hand to calm her turning stomach.

"Sabretooth?" Bobby paled. Even he, apparently, remembered.

"Why the hell did y'all put _him _in the session?" Rogue glared at the control panel where Logan and Xavier sat. "That was low!"

Kitty's eyes were wide and disbelieving- how could they do that? Her funeral had only been the day before! Even if they were never close to Wanda, they couldn't handle a confrontation with Sabretooth so soon! Kurt's tail twitched with aggravation and his fur bristled. He would never be ready for another fight with Sabretooth.

"What's the big deal with Sabretooth?" Ray demanded. "He's just a big kitty!"

"Don't, like, use my name to describe that monster!" Kitty snapped.

"Touchy, touchy." Ray held his hands up in the universal sign of defeat. She continued to glare at the younger mutant.

"You all obviously weren't ready for another confrontation with Sabretooth-" Xavier's voice broke into the room. Immediately, an array of voices interrupted him.

"Why should we be?"

"Her funeral was, like, yesterday!"

"Did y'all really expect us to be?"

"Professor, we can't deal with him right now! The memories are too fresh!"

"I understand!" Xavier interrupted them in return. "It was unfair for Logan and I to expect you all to be able to handle this, and for that, I apologize."

"Why can't he just say "sorry" like a normal person?" Rogue muttered to Kitty. The younger girl only shrugged, still shaken by the knowledge that Sabretooth had been in the session.

"You all are dismissed. You will, however, be returning to school today."

The main team had missed the Friday after Wanda's death. The previous day, a Sunday, had been used for the funeral. Now they were going back to school.

Kitty wondered if it would be any different, suddenly knowing of death and seeing it firsthand. She wondered if it would be worse every time someone told her to "go die" (or some variant of the popular wish among the students). She wondered if she was more pessimistic, more cynical- more like the dead girl herself.

There was no doubt in Kurt's mind that he had changed. He knew the day would only make him feel worse. However, he didn't want to admit it aloud, so he remained silent even as Jean expected him to beg to skip the day. She had no doubt that Xavier would allow the heartbroken boy a few more days off.

But he stayed silent.

Rogue wasn't pleased with the idea of going back to school. In fact, she was downright pissed. Suddenly, the threats, insults, and ill wishes seemed much more real. After all, Wanda was dead. Wanda had managed to defeat the X-Men practically single-handedly. And, if she could die, Rogue knew that any of them could as well.

Jean was still shaken up from the memories of panicked, dying thoughts. She was still trying to keep her queasy stomach from losing its contents, and trying to get rid of the feeling of Sabretooth's claws in her gut. She wasn't concerned with driving the others to school. She was, however, glad she had already graduated.

Bobby was the only one to groan. There was no way he wanted to go back! He hated school on a good day (which this day most certainly was not). He didn't want to deal with the problems that always seemed to arise with school.

Scott didn't mind driving the others to school. He hoped they could handle it, but it wasn't exactly a pressing concern. That spot was reserved for his pale girlfriend.

"I don't even know _why_ they missed school in the first place." Ray muttered. Tabitha, Amara, and Jubilee exchanged a strange glance. They had long since figured out that Wanda had died on whatever mission the senior members went on the previous Thursday. Now, each girl had a strong feeling it had involved Sabretooth.

The teenagers began to file out of the room to get ready for school and face their first real day in reality since the scarlet girl had died.

Empty. The house felt so empty without her there. It all seemed very foreign and funny to Todd- they had felt fine before she came. But, now that she was dead, the house was empty and heavy with silence. Her room- the forbidden, terrifying room- was completely ignored. The boys had each taken extra blankets and pillows to sleep somewhere in the living room.

No one wanted to look at her door.

Todd had been the first to stir that morning. From his curled position on the floor, he could tell the sun was only just rising. It was strange- he never woke up early. Never. But losing her had changed everything. It only made sense that his sleep schedule would change with everything else.

He then found himself sitting on the porch, watching the sunrise and thinking- another thing he had never done. He found himself wondering if God even existed- and, if He did, if Wanda had been allowed into heaven. She deserved it, no matter what she had done. But, then again, Todd didn't even believe in God or the Devil or Heaven or Hell.

"What're you doin' up so early?" Lance asked suddenly as the door opened. Todd jumped and looked up at the older mutant.

"Dunno. Do you always get up so early?" He asked, eyes trained once again on the rising sun.

"Yeah."

Lance sat down next to Todd, and watched the sunrise. Wanda had always gotten up a few minutes after himself. She would watch the sunrise every morning, from a window or the open door. On the one day Lance had asked her why she always watched something so stupid, she just rolled her eyes at him.

Now he realized she hadn't seen a single one until she had come to the boarding house.

So, he was watching the sun for her. And, she was right- it was beautiful. He would never admit it aloud, but it was truly a sight to behold. No wonder she had missed it so much. Girls liked that stuff anyway. Rogue always had, when she lived there.

It was funny- Rogue's old room had been Wanda's room. The two girls had more in common than either realized (or, in Wanda's case, _had_ realized). An example would be the inevitable pain followed by a visit to either room. And, when each left, the house had felt very empty and lonely.

"I'm gonna go make some coffee." Lance announced once the sun was finished climbing above the horizon. Todd stood up with him.

"I guess I'm gonna go inside, yo."

There was an unspoken understanding between the two. And it made it easier to weather the inevitable storm approaching.

School was not a good place to be in Kurt's mind. It was probably his least favorite place in the world (excluding certain parts of Germany, where mobs had been known to form in relation to his appearance).

"Why're the freaks back?" A voice whispered as he passed with Kitty and Rogue. He had long ago given up on hiding who he was after an unfortunate incident with mashed potatoes and his holowatch.

"I dunno. I though they had died or something!" The second voice laughed, and after a moment, the first joined in. Kurt visibly flinched. Kitty glanced at him.

"I know. It's, like, hard. But we'll survive those comments. Didn't we before?" Kitty feigned a smile. Rogue, knowing her brother better, raised an eyebrow. He ignored both girls.

"Hey guys!" Bobby hurried up beside them.

"Since when do you even talk to us during school our, Popsicle?" Rogue asked.

"Since… y'know…" He looked uncomfortable.

"People are still going to, like, mess with you." Kitty grumbled. "Trust me- you'll be hazed, like, even more."

"But- reinforcements?" Bobby looked desperate. Apparently, while the New Recruits were less well-known, he felt he could handle more hazing as long as someone else that understood what he was going through was there.

"Well, as much as I'd love to skip gym, if I do it again, I get stuck with extra Logan sessions. See y'all later." Rogue broke off from the group, heading down a hallway.

"Speaking of classes, I've got Home Ec. Like, see you later!" Kitty pasted a smile on her face, and hurried in the opposite direction of Rogue.

"What? You don't have class too?" Bobby stared at Kurt.

"I do. It's right down this hall." Kurt replied. Bobby was surprised- there was none of the usual jovial tone in the blue elf's voice. His voice sounded sad.

"Well, uh, I guess I better go to class too."

Rogue was always glad for Logan sessions when faced with gym class. She was used to being hot and sweaty from covering clothes and exercise (though, with spandex, it was a little bit better). She could also do much better than just about anyone in the class, which was often a surprise to people that hadn't seen her in gym before- which was a bit more than it should have been due to all the time she skipped.

That day, she used it as an outlet to her aggression. As they were running laps, she ran her hardest to get through them. The whole time, all she could chant to herself was the advice to not think and just run.

As she finished, gasping for breath, she heard someone stage whisper:

"Great. The freak probably used someone's powers to do it."

It struck a chord in her. She was already steamed from the morning's Danger Room session- not to mention Wanda's death.

'My death?' Wanda's voice demanded in her mind.

Rogue choked, and immediately jerked a hand up to her head. The psyches were not really a problem at that point- they slipped free and talked to her every now and then, but there weren't any signs of trouble.

'I died?' Wanda's voice sounded terrified. 'Am I going to vanish from your mind too? Am I going to be wiped from existence?'

Rogue shook her head vehemently, trying to shove the unwanted psyche to the back of her mind. Wanda was dead, Wanda wasn't supposed to be able to talk to her! She ignored the murmur of curiosity that swept the room when she spun around, looking hard for the door. It was across the room.

"Having a convulsion, freak?" A boy demanded. His friends around him laughed, as though they had put him up to a dare to say that. Rogue's head snapped up. She was _not _going to take that from a little brat who knew nothing of what any of the mutants were going through.

So, she slammed her foot into his groin.

A collective gasp circled the room as the boy went down. Rogue glanced around and began to run for the exit. She didn't want to deal with them, the same way she didn't want to deal with Wanda.

'Will anyone even remember me?'

Kitty's day wasn't going much better. She, as usual, was on her own with the whole baking thing. This really didn't do too well for her confidence- she had seen what muffins had done to the floor!

"Great…" She drawled sarcastically as someone "accidentally" bumped into her and sent a whole bag of flour flying into the bowl she was using. It really wasn't her day. She tried to balance out the flour with extra eggs, milk, yeast, everything.

It, sadly, didn't seem to be working fifteen minutes later in the oven.

"Way to go, jerk." She snapped at the person who had bumped into her. It was such a change in her demeanor, so unexpected- so much like Wanda.

"Woah- you're acting funny."

"You're, like, making a bad day even worse!" Kitty replied.

"What do I care? If we had our way, you'd be dead somewhere." The kid smirked.

"What do you know of death?" Kitty replied softly.

As the teacher droned on about Europe, Kurt stared into space. Just the week before, he was excited about learning about Europe. He knew more about Germany and its surrounding countries than any students in the class. The teacher didn't hate him- rather, the man appreciated Kurt's knowledge of distant lands.

But that day, Kurt was only interested in moping.

In fact, the previous week he had daydreamed a bit about Wanda. Now, he found himself just thinking about her. He, a devout Catholic, hoped she was in heaven. But, if she wasn't there, she was at least in purgatory. She didn't deserve even that.

"Kurt?"

"Oh!" He looked up. Apparently, the teacher had asked him a question. "Um… Repeat the question please?"

"Describe the more rural parts of Germany." The teacher raised an eyebrow. So, it hadn't been a question. But, it still required an answer.

"Um…" He didn't really care about Germany at the moment. He didn't care much about anything but Wanda. "Really pretty. Lots of people."

The teacher seemed satisfied with his answer, and returned to teaching. Which allowed Kurt to return to thinking.

Once the class ended, the teacher gestured for Kurt to see him.

"Is something wrong? You're very distracted."

"Um…" Kurt was thrown off by the question. The few teachers in the school that didn't really care about mutants always surprised him. "Something just happened last week. Kinda threw me off. Sorry."

"Are you alright?"

Alright? That was laughable. He was heartbroken. He would like nothing more than to just hide in his room for the next year. No, he wasn't alright in the slightest.

"I'm fine. See you tomorrow!"

He hurried out of the door before the teacher could ask anything more.

"Wanda Maximoff."

Just saying the name hurt him. Just thinking about her, hidden in the ground, made his blood seethe with anger and sadness. And to think- his last viewing of his daughter would be mangled and bleeding, eyes wild and terrified.

As the curator handed him a map, and pointed to his daughter's plot, the grey-haired man just nodded curtly and moved on his way to her.

He should have gone to the funeral. His Acolytes had even attended (against his wishes). He didn't want to face Charles and his condescending manner. He didn't want to face Pietro.

He was there. Looking at the grave. The unmistakable handwriting of his son gracing her headstone, describing her as "the perfect sister". It was funny- he had no idea they'd even grown remotely close in the time that had passed since Apocalypse. He had, once again, left just as the family was reconciling. He had been afraid. Pietro would never forgive him for locking up his sister (especially now). And, he was correct in his assumption that if Wanda ever found out about the memories, she would be furious.

But now, as he stared at her grave, he wished he hadn't been so afraid.

He had a bouquet of white lilies in one hand. He remembered, as a child, she had always been fascinated with the beautiful flower. This was before he locked her away.

Staring at her grave, it was easier to believe. His daughter was dead. She was not going to wake up. He had lost his only chance for reconciliation. He had given her up. And, it was likely that if he wouldn't have left again, she would still be alive.

He placed the lilies just beneath her headstone. He should have given her the flowers long ago.

And the powerful man known only as Magneto wept at his daughter's grave.

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**Thanks to those that reviewed for reviewing. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please review- it will make the update come faster, I promise. Good bye!**


	6. Chapter 6: She Was The Prey

**Hey! Just saying my usual hello before the chapter. Enjoy! This is longer than I thought it would be... Here ya go!**

**Chapter Six : She Was The Prey**

"Are you okay?" Kitty glanced at Rogue as they sat in the back of Jean's SUV. Kurt was sitting quietly in the shotgun, staring out of the window. Kitty's voice was the first thing to break the silence.

"I'm fine." Rogue answered without bothering to look up.

'I'm dead. Oh God, I'm dead!'

Wanda's panicking voice had yet to be quiet, and Rogue didn't have the heart to lock the dead girl away. After all, this silly little wisp of a psyche was all that was left of Wanda.

"You look, like, really pale."

'Are you going to erase me? If you do, no one will remember me. Just like when I was locked away in the asylum…'

Rogue rested her head against the window. Listening to Kitty was sometimes annoying- but listening to the valley girl _and_a panicky psyche was not very high on her "things to do" list.

"Well, don't I always look pale?"

"Yeah." Kitty cocked her head. Something struck her as off from the other girl.

"Then shut up."

Jean glanced in the review mirror. Rogue really _did_ look pale, leaned against the window with clenched teeth. Naturally, as she had with Wanda, her mind attempted to pick into Rogue's without conscious thought. Rogue's head snapped up and she sent Jean a nasty look, but not before Jean heard a voice.

'No one's going to remember me at all.'

The voice was so resigned and depressed that Jean almost didn't recognize it at first. And then it registered- Rogue had absorbed Wanda in some silly fight. She slammed down on the break, and turned to stare at Rogue.

"You're hearing her!"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Rogue snapped defensively.

"That's why you're so pale- it's scaring you!" Jean was surprised- she had honestly thought she would be the only one dealing with mental problems involving the death. No one had thought about Wanda's psyche.

"I have no idea what the hell you mean!" Rogue spat out, eyes narrowed to angry slits. Kitty shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Kurt turned around curiously. Neither had any idea what she meant.

A car horn interrupted the conversation.

"Start drivin', Red."

"I- I didn't know, Rogue." Jean looked softly at the girl. "If you had told someone-"

"Told someone what?" Rogue huffed. "Start driving!"

She had skipped detention for "using physical violence against another student and skipping class". She knew she would hear something about it that night when she returned to the Institute. And then Jean would talk about the Wanda psyche, and everyone in the room would stare at her as if she was an alien. The gaze would be full of pity.

_Pity._ Rogue loathed pity with every fiber of her being. The only use for it was to make someone feel bad about his or her situation, or feel better because they were better off. If someone pitied her, she automatically felt like they thought she couldn't deal with it on her own. Which made her helpless.

She hated being helpless even more.

"Is she still talking?"

"Ugh!" Rogue jerked off her seat belt, opened the door, and got out of the SUV. She slammed the door, and broke off at a run, crossing the otherwise busy street. She was followed by a stream of curses and honking.

"What did you, like, say to freak her out like that?"

Jean didn't answer, and instead began to drive again.

Up one. Up another. Keep climbing up the stairs. Todd's feet obeyed the thoughts, carrying his numb body up the stairs. He wasn't really thinking, just moving. Ever since that morning, he had been moving. If he moved, he couldn't think. If he thought, he knew his illusion that Wanda was just off somewhere would fall apart.

He couldn't have _that_.

So he climbed up the stairs. This had been the movement for the past hour. Up and down, up and down, without hesitation or pause. The other three watched him with mild interest- their own distraction.

Naturally, they were surprised when he didn't come down immediately. He was standing in front of Wanda's door, staring at the foreboding wood. His hand reached for the handle, no matter how much hard he wished it would stop. It gripped the knob and turned slowly, shoving the door open.

The room was dark and undisturbed. He found himself taking a hesitant step into the room, no matter how much he willed himself to stop where he was and hold still. A drawer was thrown out from her rush to leave and find Magneto. Clothes were strewn around the room in odd locations- most likely her powers flaring up in her rage.

Her bed was unmade and the sheets twisted as if she had only just rolled out of bed. He half expected her to come walking out of the bathroom and yell at him. There were a few scarlet candles placed around the room. A lamp was sitting by her bed, with an unfinished book beneath it.

Once he was inside the room, he suddenly realized she was dead and would never come back. She wouldn't ever clean up the mess left behind in her frenzy for revenge. She would only be a memory, and one day that would fade, leaving him without her completely.

It was as if someone had shot an arrow through his heart. He stood completely still, just staring blankly into the bedroom. His knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground. He still looked blankly about the room, still registering nothing about his surroundings. He let himself fall completely to the ground, and the carpet was his only solace.

"Should we go check on him?" Lance asked after ten minutes had passed and Todd had yet to return from upstairs.

"Sure." Pietro muttered, and stood up slowly. The other two followed suit, and began to climb the stairs.

Lance sucked in his breath when he saw _the_ door open. No one was supposed to go into that bedroom- the order was never made. It was an unspoken rule. He glanced at Pietro. The speed demon's eyes were wide and his already pale skin got lighter.

"Why the hell did he go in there?" Pietro was the first to break the silence. "Who the hell does he think he is? She didn't want him in there, ever!"

"Uh-oh…" Freddy summed up Lance's thoughts as they both took a step back.

"She wouldn't want that _thing_ in her bedroom! She didn't want _anyone_ in there!" Pietro was trembling. His words came out as a low hiss, anger at its finest. "Why did he do that?"

"Calm down, Pietro." Lance tried to soothe him.

"Calm down?" Pietro's glare spun to Lance. "Calm down? Don't tell me to fucking calm down!"

Freddy lumbered back, trying to hide in the shadows despite his enormous form. It was never good when Pietro was riled up.

"My sister is dead! My twin sister!" Surprisingly, tears were forming in the speed demon's eyes. "I lost her _again_! The last thing I want is to see what's left of her invaded!"

"It's not an invasion because she _is_ dead!" Lance snapped in defense of Todd.

"Bull." Pietro glared back. "She hated him, and she would've hated this! And she's dead!"

The hall was suddenly quiet and hung with suspense. No one could move or breathe.

"Oh… Oh God…" Pietro blinked. "Sh-She's dead… She's not coming b-back this time, is she?"

Before anyone could answer, he was gone.

He was the predator, she was the prey. It had been that simple- he had carried out his job and now he was paying for it. She was going to kill his employer- he protected him. That was what Magneto _paid_ him to do.

He had shown no mercy. This was the reason Magneto needed him. He still didn't see the problem with what he had done. She was dead, and he honestly didn't care. And he knew he was too important to lose. Magneto wouldn't kill him. Magneto _couldn't _kill him.

He had never seen Magneto that furious with him. They had fought, almost as though the Master of Metal wanted him dead, and suddenly stopped. Magneto still couldn't afford to lose the feral mutant.

Therefore, he left with a threat to for Sabretooth to stay exactly where he was until Magneto returned.

And now, with only a small still-healing cut on his face, he waited. He knew Magneto wouldn't attack him again. But he would repay him for the damage done to his body.

"What's bugging you?" Kitty was completely serious. Kurt could tell by the fact that she had omitted all valley girl speech.

"Nothing in particular. Just freaked out- like Jean, ja?" It was a pathetic attempt at trying to protect his emotions. He had no idea what he had to protect from, considering Kitty was his best friend.

"You're lying, Kurt. I know you better than that." She looked genuinely concerned and sad. Her best friends were both withdrawing into themselves, and she felt helpless to save either. She didn't want to lose them. She hoped if she helped Kurt, he could help her with Rogue.

"I'm sad."

"Why?"

Kurt didn't know what to do. Was he supposed to just come out and admit he had been sneaking around with Wanda behind everyone's backs? Say he loved her?

"I-I was her friend."

"There's something else." Kitty replied softly.

"Ja?"

"Yeah."

"How strange." Kurt tried to crack a playful smile.

"Stop it and just tell me, Kurt!" Kitty had tears brimming in her eyes. "I'm really worried about you… I just want to help…"

"You really want to know?"

"Yes!"

"I loved her."

To run was to show weakness. It was too late for her. She hated herself for it, but she had been weak when faced with prying questions. She found herself wandering about Bayville, eyeing the foreboding clouds warily.

'Did Pietro come to my funeral?'

"Yeah." By that point, Rogue had started answering the girl's questions aloud.

'Did my father?'

"No."

'Oh.'

She kept walking in the opposite direction of the Institute, even as she felt the first drops of rain stain her skin. In just a few moments, those drops had turned into a downpour. She kept walking straight ahead, even as people pulled out umbrellas and ran past her to get out of the rain.

'I don't like being dead. When you lock me up again, I won't exist.'

"Shut up."

"Haven' even said anyt'in' yet, _belle_." Remy's voice interrupted her train of thought, The thief was standing beneath a large umbrella, smiling coyly at her.

"Go away." She snapped at the Cajun. "I don't wanna deal with you!"

"Aw, y' wound Remy." The cocky mutant didn't look the least bit wounded. If Rogue had her way, he wouldn't look that way very long.

"I'm havin' a bad day, and you just made it worse."

"Worse?" Remy smirked. "Remy doubts dat."

"I can't deal with you today, Swamp Rat." Rogue gestured to her wet form and running make up. "I have to go somewhere to dry off.

"Where do y' have t' go?" Remy called after her.

The answer, whether she'd admit it or not, was nowhere.

"We're going to look for Pietro." Lance called into the dark room. After an hour of awkward silence, it was apparent that the speed demon wasn't coming back anytime soon. "Do you wanna come?"

"No."

"We'll be back in an hour." Lance tried not to worry about the green boy. "You better get outta there before Pietro gets home. He's gonna kill you."

"I don't care."

As Fred and Lance left, Todd finally found himself standing up. The room- especially messy as it was- was a tribute to Wanda. He knew the second Mystique got home she would tear it apart, throw out all of Wanda's old clothes and things that weren't of any use to her. Then she would look for someone to replace her.

So, quickly as he could, Todd grabbed the book and a few CDs. He followed suit throughout the room, taking little reminders of the girl before Mystique could get rid of them.

A few minutes later, he was hiding away everything he had stolen from the room. Most of it was going into his closet, but he stuffed a few things in a drawer. Next, he found himself traveling numbly down the stairs. His mind was still reeling. She wasn't coming back, she really was dead, this wasn't happening! Nothing made sense to him. The world, where it had been going in slow motion for the poor boy, suddenly sped up and he felt he couldn't keep up.

Which meant he was slowly going to sink under.

Down in the living room, he caught sight of a picture on top of the TV. It was of the whole Brotherhood- some stupid "family photo" Mystique had insisted on. It was around the time that Rogue and Kurt had brushed her off.

Wanda's faced was plastered with a tense smile. Her eyes were confused and a little irritated. He had just grabbed her butt before the picture was taken. Pietro was on one side of her, an arm wrapped easily around her shoulders. His smile was also fake. In fact, none of them were really smiling. It was fake- it was just a lie on paper.

He grabbed the picture, and threw it to the ground. The glass smashed out of the frame, and he carefully pulled out the picture.

And promptly ripped it to shreds.

It was fake, she was fake! That awful –for it certainly seemed that way to him- picture was just a lie that made them all seem different. He didn't want to remember her like she was in the picture- fake. He wanted to remember Wanda. And he wanted nothing to do with that terrible picture.

When Pietro walked back into the house, it was completely quiet except for the running shower upstairs. Fred and Todd had probably gone off to look for him while Lance stayed to make sure he eventually came home. Neither of the other two would have been taking a shower.

Glass crunched beneath his shoes when he walked into the room. Frowning, he glanced down. The stupid family picture had been destroyed. Glass littered the floor, and the picture had been torn to small pieces. Only one piece was still large. His sister's face.

It sent pangs of sorrow through his body to look at her. She was dead. And he had finally accepted it.

He had hoped no one would be home when he got back. That's the only reason he had bothered to stay out so long.

He walked to the kitchen, and quietly made a glass of water. A knife and a few plates were laying on the counters, scattered about the room. No one bothered to clean up. No one had the heart or energy.

Before even _he_ could blink (or lose his nerve), he was across the room and pushing the knife across his wrist. Within a few moments, blackness swept over him.

**The little line thing in documents isn't working on my computer. So ignore my thing. **

**I know a lot of people are probably confused. I made such a big deal about "no cliches", and Pietro just slit his wrists. Cliche much? Yes, but I have a twist! You won't see it until the next chapter though. So, those of you that are all "WTF HOW DARE SHE USE CLICHES AND THAT'S THE WORST ONE OMG!"- please just read the next chapter and trust me. I don't promise Pie alive, but I promise something will be 'splained. **

**Yes, I used the grammar mistakes on purpose in that little note. **

**Review and give me criticism!**


	7. Chapter 7: Away From Wanda

**Hey guys! Enjoy the chappie and review!**

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**Chapter Seven : Away From Wanda**

By dinnertime, Rogue still wasn't back. Kitty and Kurt were still hiding away in his room. And Jean wondered what had gone wrong to pull them all apart. Wasn't death supposed to bring people together to help them deal with grief? Wanda's certainly didn't seem to be doing the trick…

"Jean, what's been bothering you so much?" Scott asked his girlfriend softly, gently rubbing her shoulders.

"Nothing, Scott." Jean leaned into the massage. "I'm just, um, stressed with college and battles and stuff."

"Stuff like Wanda."

Jean couldn't decide if she loved it or hated it that he knew her so well.

"You're hiding something from everyone."

At that moment, she decided to hate it.

"You could just be looking too far into this, Scott. You have a habit of doing that."

The words didn't sting coming from Jean. Scott knew she had no malicious intent. But he also knew that something _was_ bothering her.

"What is it?"

"Nothing at all." Jean replied softly. "It's my turn to help Ororo make dinner. I need to go do that."

And she left, leaving Scott more confused and worried than before. It was a short fall to make it to the bottom, and a long climb to make it back.

"Goddammit Pietro…"

Something tightening around his wrist. Something hurt as the thing- it felt like fabric or cotton- pinched into the cut. The cut- he was in the kitchen, on the floor. He had tried to kill himself.

"Can't be bothered to think about anyone but your stupid self…"

The voice sounded like Todd's. Pietro opened his eyes, blinking the light. He felt weak and tired. The Toad was there, bandaging his wrist with a strip of white cotton. He was wearing only a pair of jeans. His hair was damp, and his face was wet. Almost as if he had been crying… He looked angry- but the anger was all-but buried beneath an overwhelming sadness.

"Sure I can." Pietro answered the boy's remark. Todd jumped, and then looked at him.

"You're awake."

"Yep."

As Todd finished tying the bandage, there was an awkward silence. Pietro wondered for a brief moment why he was alive, why he was leaned against the cabinet door and on the floor being bandaged by his sister's stalker.

"So… I'm alive."

"Yeah." Todd didn't smile. He hadn't been able to make himself smile ever since he'd ripped up the picture in the living room. "Good thing you never think things through, ain't it?"

"What the hell does that mean?" Pietro snapped. Todd had no backbone. Todd didn't talk to him- Magneto's son (even though the title repulsed him) - like that!

"Nothin', yo." Todd backed down. Even his current depression didn't make him a fool. "Just surprised you didn't remember. Your sister- She's the one who told us that anyway."

"What?" Pietro was suddenly aware of how groggy he was.

"Nothin'. I ain't givin' you ideas for next time." Todd replied, standing up. Pietro followed suit, and found his head spinning from blood loss.

"What the hell are you talking about, Toad?" Pietro demanded weakly.

"I don't wanna lose you too." Todd suddenly felt very vulnerable and alone. Pietro stared at him. "You and the guys- you're my only family. I don't wanna lose any of you like we lost Wanda."

"You said her name." Pietro's voice was soft.

"No one else does. She was still Wanda."

"So, what did she tell us?" Pietro asked as Todd helped him walk to the couch.

"You cut the wrong way."

"What?"

"Yeah." Todd helped him sit down, and sat beside him. He took no notice of the broken picture and its frame. Pietro got the distinct feeling that the younger boy had been the one to do it anyway. "She told us once that if you're gonna kill yourself, you gotta cut up and down."

"Why?" Pietro asked. It seemed odd that both boys, finally having admitted she was dead, were suddenly able to have a normal conversation. Before they had accepted it, no one could. It seemed opposite to him.

"Cuz when you do it across like that, it stops bleedin' when you pass out. Your hands snap forward to cover the wound." Todd answered softly. "She learned that from the asylum. The doctors acted like they couldn't hear 'em, and talked about all kinds of things."

Pietro remembered that. She had been addressing Lance. She had always thought he was the most mature member of the Brotherhood and easiest to talk to. Everyone else had been in the room, though. It had spurred a conversation of the best way to kill one's self, which had then switched to the best way to kill someone else.

He wished it was that night again, and he could hug her and say he was sorry.

But it wasn't that night, and she was dead, so nothing mattered anyway.

They didn't talk after that.

"Hey, Toad, did Pietro come…" Lance trailed off when he saw them sitting on the couch ten minutes later. "Hey Pietro."

"Hey." He gave a half-hearted wave of his right hand.

"What happened to your wrist?" Lance asked. He hoped he was wrong. He would do anything to be wrong.

"Tried to kill himself. But he did it wrong- he didn't do it like Wanda said, yo." Todd looked sad and desperate. "He was too scared or he just wasn't thinkin' straight."

"Oh." Lance had been right. He hated it. "Did he smash up the stupid family photo too?"

"No, that was Toad." Pietro tattled on Todd in turn.

"That's like the only picture we had of… her." Lance shifted uncomfortably. Freddy was already lumbering towards his seat.

"But it was fake!" Todd explained. "She wasn't really happy, and I wanna remember Wanda how she really was…"

He then turned to climb the stairs. He didn't leave his room all night.

Love was a funny word. Kitty had never before thought it strange that Kurt would sometimes skip dinner to be in his room, or vanish at odd hours. He was a teleporter. And he had broken up with Amanda. She had just assumed he was still, even after such a long period of time, upset. She didn't think that he could possibly find another woman.

And love her.

Let alone Wanda Maximoff. The signs had all been there. And she, his supposed "best friend", had ignored them. She felt like crap. She felt like a horrible friend. No wonder he was so upset about Wanda. She remembered at the funeral, when he hadn't said "a" in the phrase "a little bit of friendship".

He would have said love.

Kitty wished she were braver. If she were, she would have gone back into his room and hugged him. She would have stayed with him and let him know she cared. But she was afraid to intrude, and she couldn't imagine losing Lance.

So she went to her empty room.

Her room was dark and quiet. Neither of the girls had made their beds that morning, and she could see Rogue's unfinished English homework still sitting on the shared desk. Which reminded her- she had homework in Biology and Algebra to do.

She sat down on her bed instead. And began to cry.

Rogue was still wet. She was still walking aimlessly. By that point, tears had mixed with the rain. Why wouldn't Wanda shut up? She couldn't bring herself to shove the girl under the barrier. But she was sad enough without discussion.

'Will you tell my brother I love him?' She asked softly. She had been saying all sorts of things all afternoon. 'Well… loved him.'

Her voice was bitter as she made the correction.

"Sure. Whatever." Rogue snapped.

And the walk made her more tired and sad. All she could think of was Wanda- stupid Wanda, the girl she hadn't even known! It was terrible and she was helpless. The scarlet teen invaded her mind, took over her every thought. No, despite what she thought, Rogue would always remember Wanda.

_Always._

Maybe it was the fact that she was the girl's last connection to the living world. That probably had something to do with it. She would feel guilty locking her up behind silly barriers, but she was miserable having to listen to her. If she listened, she remembered. If she remembered, she would become sad. And she then she might cry. She couldn't cry.

She made a sharp turn at the corner and kept walking. She was glad Bayville wasn't quite like New York City- she had been wandering around for a few hours now.

'God, I'm scared.'

Another tear slipped with the words.

'No one loved me anyway, did they?' Wanda's voice seemed to plead for Rogue to tell her otherwise. 'Kurt had Kitty or Amanda. Pietro and Father… never loved me at all…'

Tears slipping freely down her cheeks, making salty tracks to mix with the dripping rain. It was bad enough to have her own sadness- she didn't need Wanda's to add to her own. Within moments, she was in hysterics, sobbing. The rain was a mixed blessing. It chilled her to the bone, but hid her tears. Her shaking shoulders seemed to be with the cold.

She tore through the streets, pushing aside anyone else stupid enough to be walking in the rain. She had to get away from the awful streets, away from her mind-

Away from Wanda.

She had no idea where she could go. At the Institute, Jean would demand to talk to her. Or worse- tell everyone else what had happened and what was going on. Her psychic shields weren't working well at all anyway- she was still freaked out about Wanda. She couldn't think of any other places in Bayville to go.

She cut a corner suddenly as she realized where she could go.

The Brotherhood Boarding House.

"I'm worried about them, Charles. They weren't prepared to handle such a catastrophe- you saw the training session." Ororo's soft voice was dominant over the rain outside. It wasn't her doing.

"They weren't. But, we cannot control the circumstances we are given." Xavier sighed, placing a hand on his temple. The staff- excluding Scott and Jean- was holding a meeting.

"I just feel we should be doing something more to help them!" Ororo wasn't angry- she was upset and worried. Once her nephew had left, the students were her main concern. It was easier to focus on them, worry for them, then deal with Evan's departure. "You've surely seen Jean- she grows paler and softer with each day."

Charles Xavier had a soft spot for Jean. It was a well-known fact throughout the Institute that, while he cared deeply for all his students, Jean held a special place in his heart both as a fellow telepath and a daughter. How could he not notice such changes in the girl? He worried for her mental health. Every night since that awful day, she had woken with nightmares from Wanda.

"We can't do anything." Logan snapped. He had been acting strangely ever since Kitty had mentioned Rogue's missing status.

"We could try." Ororo replied. Her voice, as always, was calm and controlled.

"And how do you suggest we do that?" Logan snarled. "They're teenage kids- they don't wanna talk to us about their problems."

"We could always just try reaching out to the poor children." Hank McCoy's friendly voice interrupted the inevitable argument. "They have been through a traumatic time- naturally, there is an aftermath. A wake of destruction, as some might call it."

"Reaching out couldn't hurt." Ororo agreed.

"It might not help either." Logan grunted.

"What choice do we have, my friends?" Xavier asked softly. "What choice do we have?"

The answer was none at all, even if no one was brave enough to admit it.

Kurt's gaze shifted uneasily to the empty seat next to Kitty. On a normal day, it would be occupied with his sister. But his sister had yet to be seen since the mysterious incident in the car.

He locked eyes with Kitty, and she looked away a moment later. He could tell she felt guilty for not knowing, for not caring. He wasn't angry with her- she was his best friend. He would never be angry with her. Somehow, she was the only person it was hard to be angry with. It had nothing to do with love- he had loved Wanda, and she loved Lance.

But their bond of friendship might last longer than love.

It had been quiet at the table for a few dinners in a row now. The New Recruits talked mostly, causing a ruckus on their side of the table. The main team- and this perhaps was what worried the adults most- was almost completely quiet, each lost to thought.

Kurt had noticed it too. But, he preferred it that way and didn't comment on it. The blue elf glanced at his sister's seat again, and his tail twitched nervously. She could be anywhere- she could be in serious trouble and they wouldn't even know it.

His gaze shifted to Jean. Something was off about the redhead- by that point, few hadn't noticed the distressed girl. And whatever it was seemed to be affecting Rogue too.

It was hard losing Wanda. Oh, no one knew more than him (or perhaps Pietro) just how hard it was to lose her. But trying to hold it together after her death- that was even harder.

"Why the hell would you try to kill yourself?" Lance spat angrily at the speed demon lounging on the couch. "Do you even think of how that would affect us?"

"Not really. What would you guys care?" Pietro asked nonchalantly.

"You're a part of the Brotherhood." Lance faltered at the calm. It was almost as if Pietro had convinced himself that his family truly wouldn't care. "We'd freakin' care."

"Bull."

"This isn't a good way to deal with losing-" Lance began.

"Losing Wanda?" Pietro looked childlike, sitting on the couch with a dejected expression no one could explain. "That's just it- we've lost her! She isn't coming back! And no matter what I do, I can't make her come back and stop me. No matter how far I push my limits… I can't beat…"

A knock at the door interrupted his rant. He suddenly seemed to remember where he was, who he was talking to. He seemed to remember he couldn't say such things. Lance ignored the knock, still looking carefully at Pietro.

"Go ahead. They can wait."

The knocking repeated, a desperate pounding.

"Open this door before I kick it in!"

Freddy's head, from the armchair, snapped up and he stared at the door. The other door were. They recognized that voice- even if they hadn't heard it friendly in quite a while.

"Doesn't sound like she wants to wait." Pietro forced a carefree smile into place.

"Rogue, what the hell are you doing knocking on our door when you should be having dinner?" Lance demanded as he jerked open the door. He wasn't angry with her, but he was still upset with Pietro. To his surprise, she was slumped against the doorframe, tears mixing with the rain on her cheeks. Her shoulders shook with the effort of crying.

"I…" She faltered, backing away. "I don't know what to do."

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**Again, the dash-y thing on my PC isn't working. Le sigh. Oh well. This might be my last update before school starts (for me, the 21st). I'll try get one more chapter up, but no promises. Reviews _do _encourage me- seriously, I would've posted this a day later if not for reviewers. Plus you get the perk of my replies letting you in on some secrets and previews! Hinthint! Told you I had something to cancel out Pietro's wrist-slitting goodness.**

**By the way- that thing about cutting the wrong way is true. You seriously rarely die if you cut across. When you pass out, your body contracts and your hands, jerking in, cover the cuts and stop the blood flow. You cut up and down. BUT I DON'T ENCOURAGED SUICIDE OR SUICIDE ATTEMPTS! YOU STILL COULD DIE IF YOU CUT EITHER WAY! DO NOT DO IT! Anyway, that means Pietro was either too cowardly or too depressed to do it right.**


	8. Chapter 8: Just A Nightmare

**Dang, that line thing is still not working! Enjoy the chapter- I know that there's a few pieces in there that could be a lot better... **

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**Chapter Eight : Just A Nightmare**

Claws tearing through, shouting everywhere. It was all so incoherent. Everything was happening so fast, and she couldn't make sense of it at all. Gasps, shouting, blurs of color. None of it made any sense. She heard shouting and anger.

And then the pain came. It tore through her gut. At that moment, she knew she was dying and could do nothing about it. She collapsed against the wall, her hands jerking up to fire a hex at the hairy man that had attacked her. He flew back into the wall with a loud crack as she scraped her way down the wall.

She could barely breathe. Her shoulder was bleeding too at that point. Sabretooth was standing up to take another swing-

_CRASH!_

Jean shot up in bed with a yell, tossing her sheets to the end of the bed. She glanced at the picture frame smashed on her floor. Her telekinesis had obviously acted up in the recurring nightmare. Shivering, she pulled the blankets back up to her chest. She hated that dream. Every night, ever since that horrible battle, she had been waking from the same dream every night.

This was only the fourth night, and it felt like an eternity.

She brushed away unbidden tears. It was more than just sadness- it was the knowledge of how Wanda had felt. It was the knowledge that the girl had been miserable, even before death. It was the knowledge that this would haunt her for much longer than she wanted to deal with it.

"Jean?" Scott hurried into her room a moment later. Her yell had probably woken him. "Are you alright?'

"I'm fine." Jean forced herself to smile and tried to wipe away her tears before Scott could see them. "Just had a nightmare."

"Again." Scott's voice was soft and sympathetic. He sat down on her bed, taking a mental note of the tears and shivering.

"Yes."

"It's funny- I had a strange-"

"Jean! I, like, heard a yell!" Kitty rushed into the room next in a rather unconventional way- that is, through the ceiling. "Are you okay?"

"I just had a nightmare." Jean tried to explain as Scott gently massaged her shoulders, visibly calming the shaking girl. "I'm fine, really. I didn't mean to yell."

"Well, you know everyone's gonna be in here anyway." Kitty sat down on the bed without an invitation, snuggling into the other girl's blankets. "It's so weird that you, like, had a nightmare. I had one too."

"As I was saying before Kitty phased in," Scott winked at Kitty. "I did too. It was really weird."

"Is everything okay?" Kurt was next, teleporting to the middle of the room.

"I'm fine!" Jean snapped. She glanced at Kurt, and softened. "I just had a nightmare. I'm a little freaked out."

"Little?" Scott snorted.

"Me too!" Kurt cocked his head. "Maybe you were projecting in your sleep."

"Telepaths can, like, do that, right?" Kitty asked her friend.

"I think so." Jean leaned against Scott. Kurt glanced at the loving couple, and his gaze turned dark.

"Well, if everything's alright, I'm going back to bed."

The smell of sulfur informed the group he hadn't waited for an answer.

Kitty looked at the spot where her friend had just been standing, confused. Then she glanced at Scott and Jean, and suppressed a groan. Relationships were definitely going to be tricky around Kurt.

"Everyone okay?" Tabitha poked her head into Bobby's room. He was felt as though he was drenched in sweat. The images from his nightmare flashed in his mind, taunting him in his fragile state. His breath came in heavy pants as he tried to calm his heart.

"Just a nightmare." Bobby forced a smile.

"Man, that was a loud nightmare." Ray groaned, sitting up. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"What's with all the yelling down here?" Jubilee opened the door all the way to allow herself into the room.

"Bobby had a nightmare." Tabitha told her with a small smirk. Since when had the only New Recruit to make the main team been bothered by nightmares?

"Are you alright?" Jubilee looked at him worriedly.

"I'm fine."

"That was a lot of yelling for "fine", you know." Ray grumbled sourly. He was worried a little about his best friend- after all, Bobby had been acting strange ever since the goth girl from the Brotherhood had died. Rhonda? No, it was Wanda.

But nightmares were only nightmares, and Ray felt he had nothing to worry about.

Letting unstable people into the house was a definite "no-no". However, when the mentally unstable person happened to be one's old housemate, one tended to bend the rule.

Lance wondered how smart that had been when Rogue had woken with a loud shout. He had let her into the house without another word, and she had soon fallen asleep on one portion of the couch. Pietro took the last spot on the couch, while Lance found himself sprawled on the floor. There wasn't a noise in the house.

Until, of course, Rogue woke with a shout.

"You okay?" Lance sat up.

"I'm fine." She said after a moment. In all honesty, she was freaked out. She hadn't absorbed Wanda after she was attacked (that would have made no sense anyway), and couldn't have gotten the nightmare from memories. "Just had a nightmare."

Lance nodded and dropped the subject.

Rogue appreciated that quality about the boys. If it was clear someone didn't want to talk about something, they usually let the subject drop. There might be teasing later- but she could take care of that with intimidating glares. They hadn't asked her about showing up earlier either.

"So, what exactly are you doing here?" Pietro asked.

Okay, scratch the last sentence.

"You seemed pretty upset earlier." Lance commented softly.

"I was." Rogue admitted.

'Pie?' Wanda's voice was hopeful for the first time since she had broken free. 'I heard Pie!'

With the return of Wanda's voice, Rogue remembered what she was doing there. She let out a heavy sigh. She hadn't exactly figured out why the Brotherhood house was the best choice to head to.

That was a lie. She knew why- she didn't want to deal with Jean's insistence to talk. Or everyone else fuss over where she had gone, for that matter. And there was the two telepaths and their ability to listen in on her thoughts. Including psyches.

"Care to enlighten us?" Pietro asked nonchalantly. Rogue could see through the act, and there was no doubt in her mind that Freddy and Lance could as well.

"Just, um, a psyche." Rogue cracked a weak grin.

"A psyche being…?" Pietro waved his hands as if he wanted her to elaborate. She had forgotten that they had never heard about the psyches.

"When I absorb someone, a part of them is stuck inside of me forever." Rogue explained. "Unless the professor erases them from my mind, but they're mostly up in my head for a real long time."

"And you were upset about this?" Pietro asked.

"They sometimes break free of my mental wall thing, and talk to me." Rogue tried to hint at what had been bothering her without actually saying it.

The boys all stared at her blankly.

"Wanda." She groaned. "_Wanda_ broke free. And she keeps talking. And she wants to know what's going on, how she died, who attended her freakin' funeral!"

Just admitting it and saying it aloud made her want to start crying all over again. The room was completely quiet (excluding the sounds of a light drizzle and wind outside). Pietro's eyes were wide. Lance looked somewhat worried. Freddy's expression hadn't changed.

"She's… She's talking to you?" Pietro choked out.

"Yes." Rogue suppressed a groan. That had apparently been a bad idea.

'You're in the Brotherhood house!'

"Can she hear me?"

"She can hear anything I can." Rogue tried to smile.

"Wanda?"

'Pie!' Wanda's tone of voice suddenly changed to that of suspicion. 'He hates me- what does he care?'

"C-Can I talk to her?" Pietro's eyes were large and pleading. Rogue had no choice but to oblige him. With a sigh, she gave full control of her body to the psyche of Wanda Maximoff.

By the six o'clock, Jean realized she wouldn't be falling back to sleep no matter how hard she tried. With a sigh, she pulled herself out of bed and trudged into the bathroom for a shower. She was thankful for the lack of Danger Room- apparently, the day before had been "too stressful and difficult" for them.

An hour later, she found herself gulping down coffee with some toast in the kitchen. Kitty was munching on an apple while she did some homework that she had forgotten about the night before. Kurt was sitting on the counter, trying to concentrate on homework as well.

The New Recruits usually came into breakfast in groups of two or three. That day was no exception. The kitchen was suddenly alive with noise as they came in.

"Hey, Rhane, did you eat my homework? I couldn't find it earlier!" Jubilee teased the redhead.

"Dogs don't really do that! I told you!" Rhane snapped.

"Okay, well thanks." Jubilee snickered.

"Hey Wild Blue Yonder Boy!" Tabitha waved a hand in front of Kurt. "You're too down!"

"Okay, Tabitha. Go eat breakfast." Kurt replied. It was clear he hadn't been paying attention to anything she had said. She huffed, and turned to grab a Pop-tart.

"Bobby, did you ever get any more sleep?" Jubilee asked.

"Oh, yeah. No big deal." Bobby shrugged off the question.

"I've never heard you yell because of a nightmare before. Are you sure you're alright?" She pressed.

"I'm fine, Jubes!" Bobby smiled. "What does it matter?"

He turned to the refrigerator to grab some milk.

"It does matter. To me, anyway." Jubilee whispered. She knew no one had heard her.

"You had a nightmare last night?" Jean stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah. No big deal." Bobby shrugged out of her grip.

"Was it about Wanda?" Jean asked as he tried to walk away. He looked at her.

"Why?"

"We all had nightmares last night- well, everyone upstairs did anyway." Jean sighed. "I think… They were all about the same thing."

"Bobby, are you gonna eat or not?" Ray called out. Bobby didn't look at Jean as he hurried to eat with his friend.

Scott was, surprisingly, the last one down to breakfast. Their "fearless leader" (as so many liked to call him behind his back) was always early.

"Kitty, have you seen Rogue this morning?" He asked the valley girl.

"Um…" Kitty blushed. "She, like, never came back last night… I haven't seen her since Jean, like, scared her out of the car."

"I wanted to know if she had a strange dream too." Scott frowned. "Wait- you haven't seen her since yesterday?"

"Nope." Kitty looked worried. "When she, like, ran away after Jean tried to talk to her. It was _way_ weird."

Kurt's head shot up.

"She never came home?"

"Do you, like, think she could be hurt or something?" Kitty looked at Scott nervously.

"I'm sure she's fine. She can handle herself." Scott sounded like he was trying harder to reassure himself than the students. In all honesty, he was.

Jean frowned. What had spooked Rogue so much anyway? She knew that it wasn't exactly ideal to the girl to be open with her friends, but the conversation surely hadn't been enough to scare her away all night? She hoped nothing was wrong. She hoped even more that Rogue hadn't done anything stupid.

"I'm sure she'll be at school." Jean smiled reassuringly at Kurt and Kitty. She seemed to calm their nerves, and the group went back to eating. Jean couldn't help but wonder if the girl really _would_ be in attendance that day.

Mystique was not in line for the "Mother of The Year" award. She was not even close to meeting the demands of motherhood. But she took small comfort in the thought that she was a better parents than Erik Lensherr.

Rejoining Magneto's cause and side had been a mistake. But- she hadn't exactly had a choice. He had obviously run _her_ boarding house by the time she had returned to it. It had been to join Magneto or create a whole new team and find an entirely new place for herself.

She had decided her revenge on Magneto could be executed once she was in a position of power over the Brotherhood again. Well- respected enough that the boys would follow her over Erik. She would always hold a position of power over them.

But she definitely decided that the revenge would have to be especially cruel when he- once again- sent her on a recruiting mission. She found herself wondering if he even cared that his daughter was dead. She, once again, was not known for her wonderful parenting skills, but she knew for a fact that she would be devastated if either Kurt or Rogue died.

She, disguised as the ex-principal of Bayville High (after all, Raven Darkholme was her true name), tossed some money to the cab driver. Slamming the door behind her, she began to make her way up the driveway. She knocked on the door upon reaching it.

"Hello?" A young woman answered the door with a smile. Mystique plastered a smile into place.

"Mrs. Dane? I'm here to talk to you about your daughter, Lorna."

**---------------------------------------------------**

**If any of you can honestly say you saw that coming, I will be very amazed. Anyway, I just wish I had done a better job with the Rogue/Brotherhood bit. Le sigh... Everything else seems to be up to par though! Please, inform me if I am wrong! This would have been up earlier if not for a storm that lost my power when I first started writing it. I'm glad it did though. This is better than my first attempt!**

**Review, kay? Love y'all!**


	9. Chapter 9: Doesn't Make Her A Martyr

**Once again, the line thing is broken. Le sigh. As school has started, expect slower updates from me. I'm rather busy now- what with a social life, homework, and band! Be sure to read the A/N at the end of the chapter, kay?**

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**Chapter Nine : Doesn't Make Her a Martyr**

By noon, Rogue could barely keep her eyes open. Judging by the looks plastered on the boys' faces- they were in the same boat. Pietro had been up all night, talking to his sister. Staying up all night had left the group worn out.

"I'm gonna leave before the blue bitch gets home." Rogue yawned. She stood up and stretched. "See y'all later."

Each boy gave a sleepy good bye without really looking up. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. They hadn't changed much. She let herself out, and thought about where to go. The obvious choice would be school- but, seeing as she had skipped detention, that wouldn't be smart. Another choice would be the Institute- but then the staff would be wondering where she'd been.

"Out all night, _chere_?"

Cue in the annoying swamp rat.

"No. I wasn't _out_ all night." She snapped, turning to Remy standing near a tree. "Are you stalking me or something?"

"_Non._" Remy looked surprised she would even entertain the thought. "Remy's jus' watchin' his _chere_ t' make sure no harm comes t' her."

"Well, do me a favor and quit." She glared at him.

"But den who would keep y' safe?" He asked, feigning a look of terror.

"I dunno. The X-Men? Scott? Logan?" She ticked the three off on her fingers.

"De hairy Canadian?" He laughed. Rogue rolled her eyes, and started to walk away. "Aw, _chere_, de Canadian's not _dat_ hairy!"

"Well "that Canadian" is gonna kill me when I get home." Rogue snapped. "And I'm late enough to school. So shoo."

"Remy'll be a gentleman an' walk de lady t' school." The Cajun insisted as he caught up with her.

"Then, when my friends see you, they'll tell Logan." Rogue huffed. "Then, he'll think I was with you all night. Do you want six claws shoved into your chest?"

"Y'll protect Remy." He casually waved it off. "Jus' like in de bayou."

"No, I will not." She insisted.

"Aw, y' will. Remy's sure o' it." He waved it off. "Anyway, if dese friends o' y'rs are do good, why didn' y' stay wit' dem las' night?"

"I dunno." She shrugged. "Now, get lost 'fore someone sees you!"

Remy rolled his eyes, but complied and took off in the opposite direction. She hid a small smile. Lying to the thief was easy (though she had a feeling he knew). After all, she _did_ know why she hadn't stayed with her friends the night before.

"Get up!" Mystique's shrill voice brought Lance back to reality. Groaning as he tried to shake out some of the stiffness that accompanied sleeping on the floor, he sat up.

"Any particular reason you've decided to wake us up, Boss Lady?" Pietro grumbled as he stretched out on the couch. Freddy just mumbled incoherently in his sleep. He, apparently, found no reason to get up.

"Meet your new teammate." Mystique stepped aside to allow a girl to step into the house. Her hair was green, and her eyes only a little darker. She looked somewhat nervous, clutching a suitcase in one hand.

"Um… Hi." She shifted uneasily. Pietro sat straight up.

"You're replacing her already?" He demanded.

"This is still a fighting team, and we will _not_ come up short!" Mystique snarled.

"Wanda died less than a week ago!" Pietro hissed. "You're replacing my only sister with some other girl!"

"Hardly. I simply replaced one sister with another." Mystique snapped.

"Wanda was my sister! I don't even know this girl!" Pietro obviously didn't believe her.

"Lorna, meet Pietro. He's just a fool." Mystique ignored his blatant distress. "This is Lance- he is team leader when I am unable to perform the job. That thing in the armchair is the Blob."

"His name is Freddy!" Pietro corrected her shakily.

"And there's one more… Where's Toad?" Mystique turned to Lance.

"Up in his room." Lance answered reluctantly.

"He's just a slimy frog." Mystique told Lorna. The green-haired girl nodded.

"How can you replace Wanda so soon?" Pietro demanded again. "Don't you even care that we miss her?"

"Suck it up Pietro!" Mystique snapped. "Do you recall how much you wanted her back in the asylum when she first came? It's just like that, except she's never coming home."

"You don't even care!" Pietro accused her. "You only wanted her for her powers!"

"And you didn't want her at all." Mystique retorted. "Shut up before I remind you who's in charge!"

"She's still dead! You're just replacing her!" Pietro shouted. Lorna backed away from Mystique, frowning.

"She's dead. So what?" Mystique glared at him. "It doesn't make her a martyr, Pietro. She was still the hateful red witch, whether you're willing to admit it or not. Crying over it is a waste of time. Drop the subject!"

Pietro didn't say another word. Mystique was still in control of the Brotherhood household, no matter what the boys wanted to believe. He hated her more at that moment than he ever had before, only partly because of Lorna. He hated her because she was right- Wanda was still the exact same person, no matter how much he wished otherwise. She still had her faults. And he hadn't wanted her there at first, no matter how much he wanted her back now.

"Turn in your homework to the front desk, please."

With those words, Kitty realized this was the single class she hadn't managed to finish homework in. Groaning, she glanced at the page in her hands. It was only half-done- a fifty for her grade, which would go even lower if she had missed any problems. Life really wasn't fair.

"Katherine, this is only halfway completed." The teacher looked at the valley girl. "You have always completed your homework in the past. Is there any particular reason?"

"Um, I just had a long night." Kitty stammered. "There's, like, a lot of stuff going on at home. We're all just a little stressed. I promise, I'll, like, do better."

"Alright, Katherine. You may be one of the higher level students in the class, but I cannot allow you passes that I would not the other students." The teacher quirked an eyebrow. While she didn't particularly _like_ mutants, she held respect for Kitty. The young girl managed to balance everything that came with being an X-Man and her grades- exceeding in both. While she no longer allowed the girl to slip by, she wouldn't hold back intelligence over something as foolish as genes.

"Alright." Kitty sighed. "I'll, like, redo it if you'll let me."

And with that, Kitty doubled her homework for the night. Life definitely wasn't fair.

She sighed as the woman at the front of the class began to teach. She would be able to figure it out without the instruction. She honestly wondered why she even bothered coming to school and dealing wit the abuse from the students, the thinly veiled contempt of the teachers, when she could just as easily learn it all at home. She knew why.

Her thoughts wandered to Lance. She wondered how he was dealing with Wanda's death. She felt as if she was taking it the easiest out of all those involved, considering her only personal connection to the dead girl was Lance, and a small conversation they'd held when battling Magneto (under the control of Apocalypse). She sighed. She knew Lance was depressed- the Brotherhood, much like the X-Men, was a family. They loved one another as siblings (excluding Todd's attraction to the Scarlet Witch).

"Wanda, you're tearing us all apart." Kitty sighed under her breath.

"What, Katherine?"

Kitty turned red. She hadn't thought about the fact that she was still in class. Oops.

"Um, I was wondering." Kitty tried to think of a cover. "If someone were to die, and everyone was falling apart around you, what would you do?"

"Interesting question." The teacher mused. "I would ask the Mrs. Young, the Philosophy teacher. This, however, is Algebra II."

"Right!" Kitty blushed. "Um, sorry. Keep teaching."

College wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Jean decided this as she shifted uncomfortable in her Psychology class. She knew it was merely coincidence that the topic that week was death, and the effect it had on the mind. She shifted again, and suppressed a sigh. This would be a hard class to make it through.

"The only reason someone would be truly affected by someone's death is if the person was close to them." One girl insisted. "Otherwise, one might be upset, but not seriously upset."

"I disagree." Jean muttered.

"Why?" The professor looked at her.

"Oh, um…" She hadn't meant to say it aloud. "I believe that anyone can be affected by a death- even if they had only met the person once or twice in bad conditions. Especially if they were to witness the death."

"Why?" The original girl challenged with a sneer. "Wouldn't they just be upset and move on?"

"No." Jean replied softly. Her pen began to gently lift off the desk, and she pushed it down with her hand. "Not at all."

"Like you would know."

Jean could feel the held-off "mutie" comment radiating and rolled her eyes. If someone was going to insult her, she would at least appreciate some originality.

"I would know." Jean snapped. Even she had a breaking point, especially with a serious lack of sleep. "Considering I have had experience with such things."

"Doubtful." The girl spat.

Before Jean could reply, she noted that the metal in her spiral notebook was slowly flattening out. She glanced down to the screws unraveling from her desk. Frowning, she tried to stop it- and realized she wasn't the one causing it.

She stood up quickly, scanning the area with her mind. Remembering a certain helmet, she stopped.

"Ms. Grey, I will have to ask you to sit down." The teacher's voice was strained.

"Wait…" Jean commanded without thinking, acting as the honorary leader as always in Scott's stead. The metal in the windows began slowly to bend out before jerking from them and shattering the glass.

"D-Did you do that?" A student asked softly. Jean didn't reply- her gaze was intent on the sky. An ominous cloaked man slowly descended into the room.

"Magneto." She hissed. The students in the classroom were frozen with fear, as was the teacher.

"Ms. Grey." The Master of Metal's voice sounded agreeable. "I need to speak with Charles. Where is he?"

"Why?" Jean glared at him. The last time as she had seen him- in actual person- was Wanda's death. "Going to see what happened to your daughter? Doubtful. You didn't seem very upset."

"Ms. Grey, do not toy with me." Magneto's displeasure was evident in his voice. "I am still far more powerful than any college student could hope to be."

"The professor isn't home. You can wait!" Jean snapped. He was in Washington D.C. for the day. She was glad to know Magneto didn't know of this.

"Child, where is he? This is important."

"I won't tell you." Jean replied. Her powers kicked in without her knowledge, sending a flurry of pens, notebooks, and books at her enemy. He easily deflected them.

"Then perhaps you can be of some use." He snapped. "Tell me, Child… Did you see Wanda's thoughts as she died?"

Jean stared at the man. Surely, he had lost his mind. Everything she knew about Magneto had proved time and time again that he cared nothing about his children. He had proved over and over that he had no feelings- that he didn't care who got hurt- or died- as long as he was winning.

"Yes."

"What was she thinking?"

The question was casual, as if he was asking about the weather. It made no sense to her. Glancing around the room, she saw her classmates petrified in fear. The teacher had suffered the same temporary fate.

"Nothing." She lied. "Now, leave, or I'm calling the X-Men to make you leave."

"Aren't you an X-Man?" She could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Reinforcements don't hurt."

"Later, then, Ms. Grey. I would like to hear what you have to say about my daughter." It sounded like an amusing little interest, as though he only wanted to know to aid his own sick delusions.

And he was suddenly gone. Jean glanced about the room, suddenly realizing how foolish she had been to even entertain the man. She could hear the horrified thoughts, the cruel comments in their minds.

And yet she sat down.

"Please continue with your lesson."

**----------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Okay- Kitty is a freshman in high school. Algebra II is a Junior level class- it's rather advanced. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. It has always bugged me when people do this: this person absolutely HATES another person. When the hated person has something bad happen, the original person is suddenly the best friend! Suddenly, that person is a martyr. It's annoying.**

**And something everyone has to deal with in death.**

**I hope you enjoyed it! Review please! **


	10. Chapter 10: Focus

**Enjoy it! I know, it's rather late. But I've had homework and band and more band and more band! It's been nuts! Jebus! Anyway, I _was_ gonna add an extra section to add length, but then it would have taken another day. So you all can just wait!**

**----------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter Ten : Focus**

"Settling in well?" Pietro asked nastily as Lorna descended the stairs. It was later that evening.

"I…" She looked confused. "Did I do something to upset you?"

"Of course not." He rolled his eyes. "You're just the replacement for my sister."

"Replacement?" He had obviously perked her curiosity. "What happened to her?"

"She _died._"

"Oh…" Lorna blushed. "I- I'm so sorry!"

"Whatever." He stood up to go into the kitchen. Lorna tugged on a strand of hair nervously. She hadn't even wanted to leave her aunt's house as it was. She didn't do well meeting new people.

"Don't worry." A voice cut into her thoughts. She spun around.

"Um… Lance?" She guessed at his name.

"Yeah." Lance tried to smile at her. "Pietro's just upset- his sister died just a few days ago."

"That's awful." Lorna frowned. "I really didn't want to make a fuss or anything…" She fidgeted again.

"It's just a little awkward." Lance assured her. "We all miss her."

"I don't want to intrude." Lorna sighed.

"I told you not to worry. Pietro's got issues with his family." He looked down. "He didn't think she'd die before they had the chance to make amends."

"They fought a lot then?"

"Oh yeah." Lance smiled at the memories. "Usually over something stupid. Pietro _loved_ to drive her crazy. She loved to hex him into things- walls, chairs, windows. He would do something stupid- like steal her journal or play a stupid prank on her. She'd get mad, and…"

He trailed off with a sad smile.

"They really do love each other though." He sighed. "Well, did."

"There's a lot of history between you all, isn't there?" She asked softly.

"Yeah. There really is." He ran a hand through his hair. "Mystique tell you about the X-Men?"

"Yes."

"One of 'em came from our team- Rogue. She's the Goth-y two-toned hair one." He explained. Lorna clearly had no idea whom Rogue was. "Uh… Yeah. Anyway, we never really found out why she left. She still hasn't told us, even though she spent the night here the other night."

"How many girls have stayed here?"

"You're the fourth." Lance grinned wryly. "There was Rogue, and then this girl named Tabitha. She was wild. Then there was Wanda."

Lance was surprised he had even managed to say her name. She had been close to him- well, as close as a person could get to Wanda. She didn't like friendship very much. He tried to smile at Lorna.

"And now you're here."

"But no one wants me." Lorna sighed softly.

Lance didn't argue with her. It was true.

"Where the hell were you, Stripes?" Logan demanded as the girl walked in the door. She had wandered around Bayville aimlessly until after dinner, when she had suddenly shown up at the door.

"I was out."

"We were, like, really worried Rogue!" Kitty frowned. "You could have, like, been… I dunno!"

"I'm fine." Rogue snapped. "I was just out."

"Rogue, I really didn't mean to say anything to upset you!" Jean sighed. "I just thought you might want to talk about it."

"In case you haven't noticed, Red- I don't talk about things very much!" Rogue rolled her eyes. "And it had nothing to do with anything you said!"

It was a lie, and Jean knew it. However, Rogue knew the redhead wouldn't call her on it- after all, no one wanted to scare her off again. Which was just fine with her- it meant most of them would leave her alone.

"Rogue, where were you all night?" Scott repeated Logan's question softly.

"I was just out!" Rogue was beginning to get frustrated. She was exhausted and didn't have enough sleep. Remy had followed her around half the day- even after she had told him to stop and thought he had walked away. Wanda was still talking to her, trying to gain contact with people again. It was all too much and too confusing.

"I can smell the jerks from the Brotherhood all over you." Logan growled. "And the Cajun. Care to explain that?"

"Uh…" She hesitated.

"Oh my God!" Kitty stared at her. "You were hanging out with them?"

"No, I wasn't "hanging out" with them!" Rogue spat. "I went over to the boarding house. And the stupid Swamp Rat is stalking me."

"You, like, went to their house?"

"Stalking? _Mein Gott!_"

"Rogue, I know you're upset because of Wanda!" Jean interrupted the chatter. "But you can't just run off with our _enemies_ without at least telling someone!"

"They're our enemies?" Rogue scoffed. "So, we held a funeral for them because we fight them? They're hurting right now, more than any of us!"

"That doesn't change the fact that you left." Jean snapped. "I know it's unsettling to hear Wanda talking to you!"

The room was completely silent. Rogue fidgeted.

'So now they know. What's the worst that can happen, Rogue?'

"Shut it." She answered aloud again. She had been doing it all day, so it seemed habit. "Just shut up because I can't deal with any of this!"

Even Logan seemed unsure of what to say. Kitty's hand was hanging in the air, as if she wanted to reach out to her friend but was afraid to. Kurt's mouth was wide open, and his eyes hopeful. Scott looked nervous. Jean seemed surprised that she even said it.

"No one said anything." Jean said softly.

"I think it was the psyche she was talking to." Kitty whispered. Things were obviously serious from the lack of "likes" in her speech.

"Screw it, I'm going to bed!" Rogue snapped, and stormed up the stairs. No one noticed the red eyes move away from the window.

_Thump._

He closed his eyes and let out a sigh.

_Thump._

Catch the ball again.

_Thump._

Up again.

_Thump._

The rhythm was easy to focus on. And Todd desperately needed something to focus on. Tossing the rubber ball up to meet his ceiling once again, he tried to concentrate on just the noise.

_Thump._

Noise. The ball smacking the ceiling made noise. The ceiling, as it cracked with age and Lance's earthquakes, made noise. The walls made noise almost constantly. Wanda had always made some sort of noise.

Stop.

Todd needed to stop thinking. Every time he tried to think of something, it lead back to Wanda. And Wanda was dead. Thinking about her only made it worse. Nevertheless, it seemed the harder he tried to focus on other things, the harder it was to keep his mind off the dead girl. The ball dropped to the floor without his hand to catch it.

With a groan, he sat up on his bed. He didn't want to be there. He didn't want to be anywhere. Hell, he didn't want to be breathing and alive at that moment. But he didn't want to be dead either.

Focus.

He just needed something to focus on. Something small, something that couldn't possibly lead back to Wanda. The sun. The sun was bright. Then again, so was light. Light could come in all sorts of colors- red, green, purple, blue. Blue. Wanda's hands would glow in blue light whenever she was about to hex someone-

Focus.

Todd sighed. It wasn't any good. All he could think about was Wanda. And, since she was dead, it did no good to think of her. No good at all.

And yet all he could think about was the day he had kissed her. She had smiled at him. That was the first real smile he had ever seen from her. She was beautiful when she smiled. She was beautiful when she was angry, or sad. She was just beautiful.

This only made him miss her more. And he knew he would never have her back.

With a sigh, he layed back down on his bed and picked up the rubber ball.

_Thump._

"Bobby?" Jubilee knocked on the door. There was no answer. "Bobby? I want to talk to you! It's Jubes."

She hated the nickname. She loathed it more than anything else she had ever been called (excluding "Fire Cracker" and "Light Show"). But she would always let Bobby call her that.

Bobby Drake was a moron sometimes. He was frequently annoying. His favorite thing to do was to play pranks- on anyone. He could easily be called a "waste of air". Yet Jubilee couldn't get him out of her mind. He was always in the back of her thoughts.

And he had been acting strangely lately.

He could fool Jamie and Roberto. He could fool Scott and Jean. He could even fool _Ray_- his best friend. But he couldn't fool the girl that watched his every move, that obsessed over everything he did, and thought only of him for hours. He couldn't fool Jubilation Lee, no matter how hard he tried.

Sighing, she pounded on the door once again.

"Robert Drake, answer the stupid door! Yeesh!" Jubilee grumbled. When there was once again now answer, she cried out in frustration and kicked the door. And kicked it again.

"Any particular reason you're beating up my door, Jubes?" A voice asked behind her.

"Huh?" She spun around to see Bobby with a quirked eyebrow and smirk. "Oh! I thought you were ignoring me in there, and…"

"You decided that destroying my door would solve your problems then?"

"Uh…" She felt heat rising in her cheeks. "I just thought I might get your attention or something. I wanted to talk to you."

"Kay. Talk." Bobby shrugged. Jubilee took a deep breath.

"Are you sure you're alright? You've been acting really weird, and I'm worried about you."

"Worried?" Bobby laughed. "Me? Jubes, you're out of your mind."

"But…" Jubilee began.

"No one else has noticed anything off." He pointed out.

"Bobby, come on. You've been quiet, and you only have time to joke around. You won't go near any of the senior X-men, even though you're _always_ bugging them." Jubilee ticked off her concerns on her fingers. "What's up?"

"Nonthing." Bobby tried once again to shrug off her question. "Anyway, I only came down here to grab an extra controller for the squirt. He wants to play video games with us."

"But Bobby…" She sighed. It was no use. She knew he wouldn't listen to her.

He hurried into his room, and emerged a moment later with the controller. As he was leaving, he glanced at the scuff marks on his door and sighed mournfully.

"Jubes, you should control your anger."

As soon as he had ascended the stairs, she let out another screech and kicked the door one last time.

Freddy wasn't a complete idiot. He wasn't oblivious to the sadness and chaos around him. He missed Wanda as well- maybe not as much as any of the others, but he knew he missed her more than any X-Man.

He usually ate whenever he was depressed. If he ate, he would forget about his worries. Eatin was soothing. You could just concentrate on the chewing and nothing more. And, considering he was constantly hungry thanks to his mutant powers, it was relaxing for the large boy.

But somehow he couldn't eat. He couldn't do anything but sit in the armchair, watching helplessly as his family was torn apart.

Fred Dukes wasn't intelligent. But he was observant. He watched. He learned by watching. And he knew that Wanda was tearing up the group- and she wasn't even alive to do it.

That made him angry. She wasn't even alive, and she still had the ability to take over their lives in a way she never had before. He had never seen his best friend so depressed. Todd hadn't come out of his room in almost twenty-four hours. But Freddy found himself unable to stand up and make the trudge up the stairs.

He listened as Lorna and Lance talked. He knew she felt unwelcome. He didn't care very much that Wanda had been replaced- as far as he was concerned, Lorna wasn't a replacement. Rather, she was just another team mate. Just like Rogue and Tabitha. But, again, he couldn't stand up and make her feel at home.

"Why is he so quiet?" He distantly heard Lorna ask.

"Freddy's just like that- he doesn't talk very much."

"Why?"

"Pietro thinks it's a lack of vocabulary."

Freddy wasn't stung by the comment. He was used to them.

He wanted to stand up and eat. Or go check on Todd. Or even talk to Lorna.

But he didn't. He just sat, watching. Watching and waiting. After all, the boiling point was close. And he didn't want to be caught in the crossfire.

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**How'd you like it? This is one of my favorite chapters! I like Lorna! And Rogue is finally confronted for her sleeping out- and Jean made a boo-boo! And red eyes? OMG!**

**Review, my lovelies.**


	11. Chapter 11: Scarlet Depression

**Hey! Okay, guys, I think we may be drawing near the end! I have the entire ending planned out- excluding one thing, which I may have to ask someone about. No, said person does not know who s/he is yet. So there. There'll be at least three, if not more, chapters. Do not fear! There may or may not be a sequel, depending upon said person's response. **

**Anyway, whether or not there's a sequel, my next story shall be humor with a tad bit of angst mixed in. Sorry to all out there! Anyone that may be at all interested in knowing what it's about- use the PM thing and ask me! I'll tell you. Also, within a few days, I should post a video on as a little tribute to the fic. Again, if anyone's interested, PM me.**

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**Chapter Eleven : Scarlet Depression**

Quiet mornings were the best time of day. Just as the sun's rays broke the horizon, the birds would begin to chirp. Lorna never missed a sunrise. It was a peaceful time to relax and think. It was a time when she didn't have to worry about her stupid hair or powers. It was a time when she wouldn't wonder if her aunt and uncle thought of her as a freak or her friends discovering her secret.

Perfect.

She was used to being the only one up so early. As thus, she was surprised to find Lance watching the coffee drip into its pot in the kitchen.

"Um… Good morning?" She offered.

"Mornin'." He didn't look up. "What're you doin' up so early?"

"I could ask you the same question." She replied. He raised an eyebrow. "Sorry. I always get up this early."

"You weren't even rude." He laughed. "Yeesh. You're the most timid person to ever live here- including Toad."

"I still don't even know who Toad is." She pointed out, trying to hide a small smile.

"He'll be down soon." Lance shifted his weight to the other foot nervously. "He's gonna come down."

"I wasn't worried that he wouldn't." Lorna pointed out softly.

The only sounds in the room were the constant dripping of coffee and the buzz the machine made as it produced the black drink.

"You ain't that hard to figure out, Stripes." Logan smirked as he took a step into the Danger Room. Rogue slammed a punching bag with her leg, and turned around. Wiping beads of sweat from her forehead, she glanced in his direction.

"What do you mean by that?" She asked, before giving the bag another fierce kick. He walked into the room and held the bag still.

"Red tellin' the truth?" He asked, ducking beneath her question. "Wanda's psyche freakin' you out?"

"No!" She slammed into the bag as hard as she could in a futile attempt to knock the Canadian away from it. He didn't budge.

"Then what the hell is?" He demanded.

"Nothing, Logan!" She snapped. Her hands clenched into fists. "I'm just being me!"

"Right." Logan rolled his eyes. The girl was too stubborn for her own damn good sometimes- although, lately, sometimes had become frequently. "Come on. You wanna let out some physical aggression? Fight me, one on one."

"No." Rogue huffed and crossed her arms.

"Yes. And, if I beat you, you're gonna tell me what the hell is going on with you." He snarled.

"I never figured _you_ to be the "touchy-feely" type, tough guy." She spat, narrowing her eyes. She didn't want to open up to anyone- especially not the Wolverine.

"And I never figured you to be the type to run from your problems." He baited her.

"You really think that's gonna work with me?" She scoffed. "One stupid comment and I'll just come runnin' to fight you?"

"One stupid comment from Red was all it took to send you runnin' off and worrying everyone to death." Logan countered. "You can't pull that shit, Rogue."

Apparently, one comment _was_ all it took for Rogue to come running fight him. She threw a hard kick at him, which the older mutant took in stride. Jerking the leg pulling back from his chest, he jerked her to the ground and pinned her down.

"What's up with you?" He demanded.

"Nothing!" She snapped, and slammed her head into his. The skin-on-skin contact made the pain leave instantly and sent Logan dizzily to her side. He had regained his composure by the time she had stood up.

She tried to sweep his feet out from under him, and switched to slam a fist into his stomach instead at the last second. He easily grabbed her wrist and she was pinned in seconds.

'Why not just tell him?' Wanda's scoff was hardly a concern of the girl writhing to get out from the hold Logan had on her.

'Like you're one to talk!' Rogue managed to think at the girl as she slammed her knees into Logan's back and sent him tumbling off her once again. She had realized the first time he had pinned her down that there was no way she could win this fight. Even with Logan trying not to hurt her, she was thoroughly screwed.

After Logan had pinned her down a fourth time, she knew there was absolutely no point in keeping up the "battle" between them. It was at least six-thirty by that time, and the students would be getting up. However, she didn't lat any of that stop her as she struggled once again to get the upper hand.

"Kid, just talk to me!" Logan snapped.

"Just leave me alone!" Rogue replied. "I don't wanna talk about it, because there's nothing to talk about!"

"Bullshit. You can fool the others, but I'm not an idiot." He grunted as he ignored her struggling. Finally, she relaxed a bit and he loosened his grip on her. "I know you're hurting for your friends. I know you don't wanna open up!"

"Then let me go!" She was close to tears, and trying hard to hide it. "I'm not some little girl, Logan! I don't need a baby sitter, and I don't care about Wanda or the Brotherhood or anything! Okay?"

'Liar.' Wanda snapped.

"I know I'm the last one that should be tellin' you this, but its okay to hurt." Logan pointed out softly. He rolled over to give her full freedom of movement. She stood up, and, tossing a glare over her shoulder, stormed to the doorway.

"Not really." She pressed a button to open the door. Once it opened, she took a step out and allowed it to shut behind her. "It's not okay at all."

It was funny how Kurt always found himself sitting on the edge of his balcony when he was depressed. He didn't really understand why he found himself drawn to the secluded spot. Perhaps it was the comfort of wind dancing and tugging through his hair. It could have been the fact that it _was_ secluded. Then again, it didn't exactly seem to be private (as he easily recalled from visits of Rogue or Tabitha).

With a long sigh, he stretched out his arms. It had been a long week- even though he still had two days to go before the weekend. His tail swiped back and forth, as he gazed out across the landscape. He felt as though he was looking for something. He had no idea what. Something- a fleeting ghost, a violent blue flash?

It was apparent, even to him, that he was tearing himself apart. Wanda had been his world- and he hadn't even known it. The girl with rare smiles and laughter had been his entire reason for living- in his mind, at least.

A bird's chirp flitted beneath him somewhere, carried by the wind to reach his sensitive ears. The sunrise always brought with them the sounds of nature and wakefulness. Any other time, he would have appreciated it. Often, he found himself standing on that balcony, listening to birds and the wind. That day, it only served to add to his depression.

Was he honestly so washed up that he wouldn't feel even a slight grasp of happiness listening to the world awaken? Was he so lost, even to himself, that nothing mattered anymore? He was the optimist, the one that always reminded others that everything would be alright in the end. He was the faithful Catholic, believing that God and all things good would always triumph!

If this was true, then why did he feel as if his world was slowly crumbling away from him? Why did he feel as though nothing would ever make sense again, and he would never find hope or love?

Why did he feel no one was there to hear him?

"Brooding doesn't really suit you."

He nearly fell off the balcony at Kitty's soft comment. Turning around, he cracked a smile.

"Ah, _Katzchen, _I'm not brooding."

"You only, like, sit on the balcony when you're brooding and depressed." Kitty pointed out dryly as she walked up to lean against the balcony. She had apparently phased into his room and, upon finding him outside, come to greet him.

"What makes you think that?" The blue-furred mutant asked.

"_Everyone_ knows it, Kurt." The younger girl rolled her eyes. "It's how we, like, classify you as upset."

"_Ja_? That's good to know." He leapt down to stand by her in a graceful movement. "I will remember that."

"Thinking about her?"

"Who?" Kitty stared dryly at him. "Yes."

"You'll, like, be okay."

"I know." Kurt didn't believe it. But, being himself, he wanted to do anything to make his friends happy.

"I mean it Kurt." She sighed. "I've, like, learned through all the fights with Lance. Just because you love someone doesn't mean you can't like without them."

"I'll keep that in mind, _Katzchen._"

"I'm, like, really sorry Kurt." Kitty looked down at her hands. "I mean, I had like no idea how much she meant to you. I was a bad friend."

"No, Kitty." Kurt vehemently shook his head. "You're a good friend, _ja_?"

"No." She looked like she was about to cry. "I mean, I'm, like, your best friend, but here I didn't even notice that you loved her."

"We didn't want you to know." Kurt reassured her. She again shook her head.

"I'm, like, really sorry Kurt."

"It's fine." Kurt shrugged it off.

"Will you please just accept my apology?" Kitty glared at him through watery eyes.

"_Ja, ja!_" Kurt smiled at her. "But you have nothing to apologize for."

Feet pounding against the pavement. Faster, faster! Depression was just a black tar, gripping him and slowing him down. Pietro Maximoff would never slow down.

On second thought, he decided he would classify depression as scarlet. Scarlet for blood, scarlet for death- scarlet for blood and witchcraft. He pushed out another burst of speed, as if the "scarlet" depression was a physical being truly chasing him.

He, when depressed, never necessarily knew where he was running to. He was just running. It was easy to slip out of the house- he was so fast, no one even knew he had gone. They, if even awake, would assume he was still sleeping. The adrenaline of running brought with it a mindless ease. He couldn't think straight while his heart was pumping- he just thought about putting one foot in front of the other, and letting them lead him wherever he was supposed to go.

It usually worked.

That was the reason he was pushing his limits further and further. This time, he couldn't lose himself to the run. His thoughts lead to his sister every time. And the scarlet depression bogged him down.

And he was suddenly stopped, overlooking a bridge and the water dancing with white froth beneath it. It would be easy to "accidentally" topple over the edge and vanish. Wherever he was, the scarlet depression wouldn't hold him back if he was gone from here.

One foot in front of the other. Climb atop the edge. Watching the froth leaping over rocks and plants, watching the fish dart to and fro, he wondered if it was even worth it. Would it be no different on the other side? Would nothing change?

And his cowardice lead him off the bridge, and back down to the virtuously lifeless street. His cowardice brought him back to the run ahead of him.

He took off once again, feet slapping the pavement, again unsure of his destination.

When he finally stopped again, he was standing in front of a very familiar grave. He ran a finger over the engraved writing decorating the stone. It was just stone- cold and unfeeling, just like her. She, of course, was dead.

He remembered talking to her. Well, her psyche. The speech had been erratic, hard to understand. He supposed it was difficult to understand that your physical self was dead while you still felt alive.

He sat down on the soft ground, still a bit muddy from the recent rain. A moment later, he found himself reading the tombstone over and over. Every word felt like a slap in the face- a lie. Was she really so opposite what was said about her? Or had Xavier been more honest about her than himself- her brother?

She was broken. She had been broken ever since Magneto had locked her away in the asylum. And she would never be forgotten- at least, by Pietro. But once he was dead, who would be left to remember her? He doubted he would have children.

And, once again, the scarlet depression edged in and took hold.

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**Did y'all enjoy that? I had fun writing it- especially the Rogue/Logan scene, and the Kurt scene! Anyway, please review darlings! Ta-ta for now! **


	12. Chapter 12: One Week

**Howdy! It's a bit late, so I added about 300 more words than usual. Enjoy!**

**Link to video I made: http/ that doesn't work, type this in (replacing the "dots" with periods and all): http : slash slash www dot youtube dot com slash watch?v equal sign c4pWLFQml2U**

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter Twelve : One Week**

One week. One horrendous, impossible week. Jean fumbled sleepily with her alarm clock. They had passed by in a blur of tears and confusion. Every night, she had gotten less than five hours of sleep. Every night, Scott had come to her room and comforted her from the horrible nightmares until she was once again asleep. And every day, she felt more and more detached.

Pushing away the warm blankets, she cringed at the cold air. The anniversary of Wanda's death- even if it was just a week. She wanted to laugh at the irony of the thought- an anniversary was to celebrate something. Were they celebrating her death?

Judging from her own dread of the day, she doubted it.

She yanked a brush through her hair before suiting up for the Danger Room. Praying it would be better than the last session, she stepped into the elevator with Kitty. Rogue was probably already down- she had, for the past few days, been spending quite a bit of time in there. Even Logan avoided the place when she was in there.

"One week." Kitty's voice broke the silence. "Funny, isn't it? It feels like it was, like, yesterday. And, at the same time, it feels like a century ago…"

Jean nodded. The younger girl was right.

"I don't know how I'm gonna, like, make it through the school day."

The elevator came to a stop, and the two girls exited. The boys and New Recruits had beat them down to the session.

"Everyone ready now?" Logan demanded.

"Yep!" Tabitha gave him a mock salute.

When they entered the room, a sweaty Rogue scowled. Logan caught her eye, and she shot him a dark glare as she went to stand with the team. There was an unspoken agreement between them- ignore one another.

"Just run through the session. The objective is to be the first to the end- no powers. Go." Logan sent them running, and left to meet Xavier and Hank in the Control Room.

Immediately, a fog descended on the group. Rocks and plants materialized from thin air. Jean found herself unable to truly see anything beyond a few feet.

"What're you waiting for?" Logan snarled above them. "Just go!"

With such words of "encouragement", the session began.

An hour later found the students fighting their way into the kitchen to snag breakfast before school.

"Where the hell is the milk in this place?"

_Splash!_

"Um… On the floor…"

"Amara, you don't even _need _the toaster! Lemme use it!"

"No!"

In the chaos of the morning, no one noticed when Rogue slipped out early. Sighing with relief, she broke off in a brisk walk for the school.

"Stalkin' ain't a nice way t' word it t' y'r friends." A smooth voice sighed as Remy sidled up next to her. "Hones'ly, _chere, _y' oughtta know by now dat dey'll be mad at poor Remy now."

"Poor Remy _is_ stalking me!" Rogue shot back.

"_Non!_" He shook his head vehemently. "Remy's only watchin' y' t' protect y'! De way y' worded it, dey're gon' t'ink it's perverted or unsettlin'!"

"It is." She spat.

"Feelin' a bit venomous t'day, _chere?_" He cocked an eyebrow. "Must admit, it _does_ suit y'."

"Screw you, Cajun."

"Well…" A smirk played out across his face. "If y' insist, _chere._ But Remy really t'ought y' wanted t' wait f'r marriage…"

"Is everything an innuendo with you?" She demanded.

"_Oui_." The thief shrugged nonchalantly. "But y' love Remy f'r it."

"No, I'd love it if "Remy" could just use first person." She rolled her eyes.

"So, y'll love me if I use dis "first person" y' seem t' be so fond o'?" He asked deviously. "Well, dere y' go!"

"Jeeze, you get more annoying every day!" She groaned. "Do you not even know what day it is?"

"_Oui._" His face darkened. "Only _un_ week ago. Dat was a bad day."

"Then why do you find it necessary to flirt with me every chance you get?" She snapped. "Why can't you just leave me the hell alone like any _sane_ human being? What is your problem?"

"Y' ever t'ink people have different ways o' lettin' it out, _chere_?" He cocked an eyebrow. "Maybe y' and Remy ain't so different after all, _hehn_?"

"What will it take for you to leave me alone?" The sullen girl crossed her arms childishly and glared at him.

"Talk t' Remy, _chere." _The Cajun replied smoothly. "Talk t' Remy, an' he'll see what he can do 'bout leavin' y' alone."

It was just another day to get through. Nothing special. Todd chanted the two words in his mind, a private mantra, as he pushed open his door. One, two, three, four. Count your steps, count the stairs. Nothing different, nothing special.

He felt disconnected, out of sync with the rest of the world. He hadn't left his room in two days (excluding certain necessities). From the kitchen, he heard a high-pitched laugh pierce through the air, followed by a soft laugh from Lance. With a frown, he tried to place the voice. Kitty had school, while Tabitha and Rogue- the only other girls that would skip school to hang out with them- had lower voices.

Nothing special, nothing special, nothing special.

"Who's this?" He asked once he entered the kitchen. A girl with flowing green hair was perched on the counter, a vibrant smile lighting up her face. She was wearing _pink_ pajamas. Something was off.

"Lorna Dane." Lance shifted awkwardly. He wondered if Todd, having been holed up in his room for two days straight, knew what day it was. He hoped for the younger boy's sake that he didn't. Judging by the dark circles under his eyes, he hadn't slept and probably knew anyway. "Mystique brought her a few hours after you went upstairs…"

"Replacement?"

He was so much calmer about this than he'd thought he would be. He was still disconnected, watching and not experiencing. Only brief touches on emotion.

"Um… Sorta…" Lance shrugged. He didn't like or dislike the girl yet. He really didn't know what to make of her.

"Toad… Todd?" She guessed.

"Yep." He snagged a buzzing fly with his tongue. She visibly flinched, her nerves getting the best of her.

"Um…" She shifted nervously.

"S'okay. I only came down here for a minute anyway." Todd shrugged her off. "Figures I should… I dunno, eat or somethin'."

"Stay down here for awhile." Lorna immediately insisted.

"C'mon, Toad, what could hurt?" Lance covered his concern easily. He always had before with any of the other boys. When the amphibious mutant still didn't look convinced, he decided to try another tactic. "Freddy's been really worried 'bout you. Do you wanna let him down?"

It was strange how much Lance wanted him to stay. He wanted them to be okay. He wanted his family to go back to normal.

"Alright." Todd conceded. "I'll stay for a couple of hours, yo."

With those words, the coffee pot dinged to announce the warm drink was ready.

"If you don't get in the car, you're gonna be late!" Jubilee yelled behind her as she hopped into Scott's car. Most of the Xavier kids had loaded up into one of three cars, but there were a few stragglers. Namely Jamie.

"Hold on!" The younger boy cried out desperately, trying (with the help of his clones) to cram all his homework into his bag as he ran. Papers slipped from one clone's hands, and he groaned. This was definitely not his day.

It didn't seem to be anyone else's either. Kitty and Kurt had flat out refused to talk to anyone that morning, excluding one another. They had claimed Jean's SUV as their own- and the New Recruits had decided it would be safer to just cram into two other cars than space out and have to ride with the duo. He knew very well that it was one week to the day that Wanda Maximoff had died.

But why did anyone care? That's what he couldn't figure out. Weren't you supposed to crow in victory when one of your enemies fell? He had never actually _wanted_ any of his enemies dead (and he knew he'd be depressed if he had seen it)- but he was only thirteen. The others were older and tougher. They knew about the world, and they didn't let it push them around. They weren't supposed to _care_- not like he would have.

Frowning as he hopped into Scott's car, he noted that even the team leader was off. He was distracted, caught up in some imaginary thoughts that the young boy couldn't even begin to imagine. What was so mystifying about one girl's death? How had one stupid girl ensnared all those he considered unbreakable and exposed their weaknesses?

With a small sigh, he leaned against the window in the backseat. Nothing really made sense- all the rules about life you learned were usually wrong anyway. After all, Kitty and Kurt weren't brave and strong like he'd thought. Scott couldn't cut himself off from emotions. Even Rogue couldn't stop herself from caring.

Speaking of the girl, someone that looked an awfully lot like her was wrapped in the arms of a tall man in a trench coat. Even stranger, the girl wore the same outfit and makeup as Rogue. But, he reasoned, it couldn't be her. She didn't cry, and she didn't hug strange men that looked like they'd as quickly kill her as they would help her.

"Hey Scott!" Jamie called his attention. "Is that Rogue? Who's the guy?"

Scott slammed on the brakes.

"Gambit."

And before anyone could bat an eye, the leader was out of the car and storming to them.

"Are we gonna be late now?" Jubilee cocked her head.

"Yes!" Tabitha crowed happily.

"Gambit, get your hands off her!" A snarl interrupted the brief moment of peace between the duo. With a groan, Remy glared at Rogue.

"Now y' see why y' can't go tellin' y'r fearless leader dat Remy's stalkin' y'!" He chided as he pulled away from her. "It makes f'r a bad impression, and dey'll t'ink it's true!"

"It is true." Rogue repeated.

"What the hell is going on?" Scott snapped. "What are you doing?"

"Talking." Rogue replied nonchalantly.

"I thought he was stalking you- you didn't mention the hugs." Scott's tone was patronizing.

"He is stalking me." Rogue spat. "I just happen to have talked to him this time. What do you care, Scooter?"

"We'll talk this afternoon. Get in the car, you're going to school." Scott ordered.

"What makes you think he won't stalk me there?" Rogue challenged. "He followed me to the Institute without tripping any alarms!"

"Great…" Scott grumbled. "In the car. Now."

"Move 'long, _chere._" Remy gave her a little push. "Don' wanna upset de Cyclops wit' a stick-up-its-ass any more den we have t', _non_?"

"Screw both of you." She stood stubbornly in place. Scott wondered if it was simply because she had been ordered the opposite.

"You can get in the car, or I can call Logan. You're choice." Scott said casually. Her eyes widened- she was still rather displeased with the hairy Canadian. Without a good bye, she stalked over to the car.

"Stay away from her, Gambit!" Scott glared at the thief. "She's hurting right now, and I don't need you making it worse!"

"Seems like Gambit can do a better job o' cheerin' de _fille _up anyway." His gaze was ice at the teen. "De way Gambit sees it, y'all may t'ink y' can hold it all toget'er, but it's jus' fallin' apart with ev'ry step y' take."

Before Scott could even make a feeble argument, the Cajun had hurried off.

One week. One stupid week was all it had taken to tear him completely apart.

No. Focus on the test on Germany. It shouldn't have been hard for Kurt to ace it.

If only his thoughts hadn't kept wandering off to distant lands where a girl in scarlet lay bleeding. Or to an overdone corpse that would have hated the appearance she was given as she was hidden beneath the ground.

And the thing that haunted him most were the vacant eyes he had last seen awake.

Concentrate. Easy.

It wasn't easy to contain his wandering thoughts.

"Mr. Wagner, come to my desk."

Kurt complied, happy to leave the test behind.

"Yes, Mr. Johnson?"

"You're awfully distracted." The teacher's gaze was soft. "Is something wrong?"

"It's just, um…" Kurt trailed off helplessly. He didn't want to mention Wanda- especially within the earshot of students (some of whom might even celebrate the idea). "Just a very bad day, _ja_? Someone very close to me recently…"

It was funny how every time he thought he was getting over it, a new wave of anguish would release itself on him. He couldn't even admit it aloud that she had died-in fact, he couldn't even bring himself to say the word "died". How pathetic was that?

"Um... Passed away." He finished weakly. "It was one week ago today. I can't concentrate- I'm very sorry. I will just return to my test now."

He felt like a complete idiot. Of _course _it was a wonderful idea to tell the teacher such a thing- especially considering most of them hardly tolerated him due to his mutation(which had been revealed after the entire Apocalypse ordeal), and making excuses was hardly going to improve their opinions of him.

"I see." Mr. Johnson raised an eyebrow. Kurt braced himself for the torrent of a lecture about making excuses. "Perhaps you would like to re-take the test at a later date? Next Friday?"

"What?" Kurt's head snapped up. "Really?"

"Why not?"

"Um… because… You know…" Kurt pointed out nervously.

"You are my student, and I make allowances for those that need it. Go read a book or something, and expect to see me next Friday at lunch." Mr. Johnson

A bewildered Kurt did as he was told, only to lose himself to the distracting thoughts the moment he cracked open a book.

"Ms. Grey?" Jean whirled around to see Magneto, dressed in somewhat casual clothes smirking at her. "May I ask you to accompany me to lunch? You never did answer my question."

"I have class." She replied stiffly. It was unnerving to be asked to lunch by a well-known terrorist to say the least.

"I insist." Magneto replied. She felt the chain of her necklace tighten a bit around her neck. She could feel her belt buckle jerking towards him.

"Well, how can I refuse?" Jean snapped irritably.

"Apparently you can not." The older man shrugged her off.

"Apparently." She snapped.

This was how Jean Grey found herself sitting in an extremely fancy Italian restaurant sipping a glass of water with Eric Lensherr. After they had ordered, he glanced at her.

"How is Charles?" His question held a cynical and aloof air. "I haven't spoken to him lately on friendly terms."

"Been too busy terrorizing innocent people?" Jean snarled.

"Hardly." His raised eyebrow showed his displeasure. "So, tell me… What was my daughter thinking as she died?"

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**Did you like it? Review and tell me! I think I butchered the scene with Jean and Magneto... Le sigh... Anyway, I'm decently happy with the rest of it. And Rogue14 has the right to gloat because she was right about the whole "stalking" thing. Bye bye!**


	13. Chapter 13: Unlucky Number Thirteen

**I know this is amazingly late. School is really killing me! It's even short... I'm so sorry! Please forgive me! **

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**Chapter Thirteen : Unlucky Number Thirteen**

Breathe in, slap another foot to the ground, and breathe out. Pietro couldn't see anything as he kept sprinting towards an unknown destination. The clouds were dark and overhung- he could feel the tingles of rain spreading throughout his body.

And suddenly there was nothing more. He couldn't move, he was stuck on the spot. Beneath him, the ground was crumpling and sliding off to an unkown. He fled the scene, sprinting in the opposite direction with finality. He _would _be safe. He _could_ outrun it.

But once he had run as far as he could in the other direction, the ground was slipping again, and he had no footholds.

"Is this a joke?" He shouted out to the dark abyss of clouds and rain. "Avalanche, are you playing some sick prank on me?"

There was no answer- not even an ever-clichéd echo.

The pattern repeated, a dizzying sense of repetition and disbelief, until there was nowhere to run. He was stuck to the spot, no where to turn as the ground continued to eat its way inward. And in front of him stood a headstone for Wanda Maximoff. This alone would have disturbed him- but next to her freshly buried grave was an newly dug hole, topped by a tombstone bearing his own name.

Pietro sat up with a start, drenched in sweat, and breathing heavily. The strange dream seemed out of place- until he remembered what day it was. And suddenly, the horrible dream made sense and he wanted to go back to sleep.

Glancing at the clock, he could see it read 10:13. Thirteen was always his lucky number- a little irony to throw in the world's face, because he knew bad luck and superstition could never catch up to the Quicksilver. But at the time it only seemed like unlucky number thirteen.

Unlucky number thirteen. His sister- the self-proclaimed Scarlet _Witch_- would have laughed in his face if she heard him say that. That, or hex him out a window. She had never been too superstitious- there seemed to be something about irony and his family. His father wanted mutant supremacy, but had no problem killing anyone- human or mutant- that got in his way. The Witch didn't believe in superstition. And his lucky number was thirteen.

Irony was a cruel, cruel thing.

He stood up, and made his way across his room. Trudging down the stairs, he found himself an interruption to whatever early morning television program was on.

"Hey." Lance offered an awkward wave from the couch. He didn't even nod, just found himself standing and watching.

Lorna's eyes were dark and bleary, mindlessly staring at the buzzing screen. She had no idea what day it was. And, somehow, he hated her for it. Todd was pale, shaking against the couch, trying to pretend nothing was wrong. He didn't exactly feel sympathy for the amphibian- she was _his_ sister, he didn't have to fucking pity anyone! But he almost wanted to give the boy a comforting word. Almost.

Freddy was nowhere to be seen. That was strange, considering the lard was always down for breakfast by this time. Lance was stretched across the remainder of the couch, whereas Lorna had taken Freddy's usual chair.

He knew if he took another step, he'd invade the peace and it would be ruined.

With that thought kept safely in mind, he briskly crossed the room and shoved Lance's feet from the couch to take a seat. The boy opened his mouth as if to snap, and suddenly remembered the day, the time, and whom he was talking to.

"It's raining today."

"Storm's probably pissed." Pietro snapped back.

And the soft pounding of rain filled the room.

Within ten minutes, he felt antsy. Wired, and antsy, and tired, and dead. Dead, dead with his sister deep in the ground, dead, dead, dead to match black, dead to match scarlet, scarlet filling his mind, smothering his thoughts, breaking his feelings. Gotta breathe, breathe, breathe, don't think, block out scarlet with blue, harmless blue.

His eyes moved from one spot to another, rapid, wild. His mouth was dry, his lips cracking, and he suddenly felt impossibly awake. And impossibly dead. His thoughts, racing too fast to keep up with, smothered his very being.

_Just breathe. Breathe, breathe, breathe!_

And he took one shaky, stale breath after another.

_Breathe, breathe, why can't you just breathe, you coward?_

All eyes in the room are on him.

_Just take in one breath! It's not that hard, stop freaking out, she's dead!_

"Pietro?" Lance's voice didn't break through to him. He was wild, dead, living, confused. Wanda was alive, Wanda was dead, where was he, where was she?

_Stop shaking, stop cowering, what's wrong?_

"Yo, he's out." Todd's dull voice manages to force its way into his head. "But who isn't today?"

_Breath is pointless, I'm dead, in the ground next to my sister! _

Once the breaking point is met, how hard is it to pull all the little pieces back together again.

"Already played stalker today?" St. John's voice cackled. Remy suppressed a groan, wondering why on earth the depressed firebug had decided to suddenly become cheerful.

Upon catching sight of a suspiciously half-empty bottle of vodka, the answer was pretty obvious.

"Already drunk t'day?" He shot back.

"Yup!" The Aussie laughed. "What a bloody awful day it is!"

At moments like those, when his friend was drinking himself into oblivion about a girl he'd met once or twice, that he wondered what exactly had him pining for the late girl. The Cajun didn't exactly blame him- he was depressed. Mostly for the Southern belle that was hiding something important from him and everyone around her.

Suddenly, that vodka bottle looked _very_ tempting (although, he had to admit that bourbon would have been a better choice).

"Y' don' need any more t' drink." He took the bottle.

"Neither do you, mate!" The disgruntled pyromaniac snapped.

"Remy ain' been drinkin'." The Cajun countered. "Y' have."

"Screw you."

"S' 'cause she's dead, ain' it?" Remy asked casually, taking a swig from the bottle.

"Well, aren't you the bright one, Rem?" John rolled his eyes. "I'll be sure to come to you next time someone wants me to figure out that two plus two is five!"

"It's four, _mon ami_." Remy corrected his drunk friend.

"Go to hell." He pouted.

"See y' there."

"Fine."

And that was the extent of their soft conversation. It was just another moment in time- another moment that would pass, just as Wanda had, just has her memory one day would.

Brooding was not the Master of Magnetism's style. Erik Lensherr had always been known as cold, unfeeling- emotionless. That was the reason the wretched girl- Jean Grey, if he wasn't mistaken- was so short. This was the reason all thought he wasn't even shaken by his own daughter's death.

But, he was also a living being (he despised the idea that he was human). He bled if he was cut, he bruised when he struck- what could make one think he didn't feel when his _daughter_ died? It was just as well that he was viewed in such a way, he supposed, but it was rather annoying.

He frowned as a drop of rain dripped down his cheek, with the opening of the metal orb. Then again, a small matter such as rain wouldn't stand in his way. He had to do this. Even if she couldn't know, he _owed_ her this.

Using the metal to shield himself from the rain, he briskly walked across the graveyard. It took hardly any searching at all to find Wanda Maximoff. It didn't look any different than the last time he had been there.

Lost in his own thoughts, he noticed nothing- not the car pulling up, the doors slamming, the boys' hushed conversations. Nothing, that is, until this point.

"Father?"

Spinning about, he wondered if his expression matched his son's. Absolute disbelief was shadowed barely by a look of anger.

"What are you doing here?"

"Pietro, I can explain-"

The older man's words fell on deaf ears.

"You killed her!" His voice was grating against his father's ears, painful. "You have no right to be here! What are you doing here?"

"I have a right to be here as much as you do!" Erik snapped back.

"You killed my sister!"

"I did not kill her!"

"You let her get killed!" Pietro's eyes were clouded with anger. "It's all your goddamn fault, _you _let it happen, I hate you!"

Lance waved the others away, and followed suit. No way did they want to be in the crossfire when his friend tried to slug Magneto or something like that.

"Be rational- I did nothing!" Erik's eyes narrowed, angry.

"Exactly!" His eyes were darting every which way, his panicked mind unable to make sense of anything other than pain and anger. Anger, anger, anger! "You didn't stop it! You killed her, my sister's dead, you fucking killed her!"

His mind, breaking through his speech, made no more sense than it had in the past week. It was impossible for Lance or his own father to imagine the panicked, rushed thoughts- no control, and not being able to stop it.

"My sister's dead, and I'm dead with her!" He was ranting now, only partially directed at his father. "We're all dead, we dug our own graves when we buried her, can't you feel her everywhere?"

Everyone seemed so blind. How could they not feel her presence, lingering, haunting them? She was always in their thoughts, dancing at the darkest corners of their minds. Why didn't anyone realize what he meant? The blank, nervous looks he was receiving drove him crazy, made him furious.

It was all too much.

_Too much, too much, oh God, she really is dead, he really killed her, why is this happening, what's going on, why can't anyone else feel her? Too much, too much, too much, what right does Father have to be here, what right do I have to be here, someone help me, oh God, oh God, why is she dead, why am I buried with her? Oh God, oh God, please, make it all go away, let me sleep in the grave and not her, oh God, oh God!_

"Pietro?" Lance broke the awkward silence, staring at his friend.

_Too much, she's dead, I'm dead, Father's dead, dead, we're buried in the same plot even when I breathe, what am I doing here, oh God, why isn't anything making any sense? Sense, sense, sense, she's dead, dead, dead, oh God, oh God, oh God!_

"Can't I just think right now?" The speed demon ranted. "I can't think, oh God, she's dead, I'm with her, sleeping in the grave, what are we gonna do?"

"Calm down, yo!" Todd demanded sharply.

"We're all dead with her, she's still here and we're the ones that died, can't you see that?" Pietro shouted. Rain dripped from his face, falling into useless puddles. "We're buried, and she's the one that's free!"

"Pietro!" The sharp voice of his father seemed to bring the boy back to reality. "Calm yourself!"

"No! You killed my sister!"

And, without a single thought, without even his speed, he slapped his father as hard as he possibly could.

Gasps filled the air, panic suddenly returned to the silver-haired boy's eyes, and Erik Lensherr was in shock. There was a brief moment of complete silence, tension hanging heavy in the air. Pietro's jaw hung open, captured by surprise. He couldn't move.

"Are you quite finished yet?"

The words dripped over the air, laced with anger and guilt. Pietro quirked a brow. No fight? No screaming, no metal flying towards him to end his life? This man was foreign to him.

"I am here to mourn my _daughter's_ death." The older man's eyes were ablaze. "May I please do so in peace?"

Instead of the usual quick nod and apology, instead of the cowardly agreement, Pietro stood next to him.

And, even if only for a short while, the Maximoff family was whole as father and son mourned together.

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**This past few weeks has been hard. A man I cared for as a grandfather passed away, I've had a contest for band, and I've gotten an amazingly sweet boyfriend! But these are all excuses- I apologize for the wait, but it's one of my favorite chapters anyway. **

**Forgive me? I'm soorrryyy! I was going to send out previews first, but then you all would have to wait longer for the chapter. So, tomorrow, I will reply to all reviews, kay? I'll... um... Preview the sequel in it! How does that sound? puppy dog eyes**


	14. Epilogue: Healing

**Here it is- the (hopefully) long awaited ending of Left in Scarlet Wake! It's been a real pleasure, you guys. I can never thank you enough for your reviews, for sticking with the story. It's been a really long, stressful time in my life. I've lost some people I really care about, whether to death or to time. I've been hurt. I've been happy. I just want to thank you so much, because you'll never know how much your positive words kept me from discontinuing this.**

**Thanks!**

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**Epilogue : Healing**

How Rogue had found herself sitting next to Remy at the park, she wasn't sure. How she had found herself talking to him- _really_ talking to him- was unbelievable, and she couldn't think of a good reason to even stay.

But she couldn't think of a good reason to leave either.

"'Course y' feel f'r dem." Remy replied to her previous comment. "Dey're y'r friends, _non_?"

"They _were_ my friends." Rogue corrected softly. "I don't really know where we stand."

"Y' spent de night at deir house." The Cajun quirked a brow. "Remy t'inks dat y're still _amis_."

"It's confusing." Rogue found herself suppressing a smile. "Logan and I are fighting, and I can't bring myself to talk to Jean or Kitty or anyone else… Why the hell am I talking to you?"

"'Cause y' can' resis' Remy's charm."

"You're an arrogant asshole, Remy LeBeau." She scowled. "I hate you."

"Den leave." He shrugged.

"I should." She stood up.

"But y' ain't gonna do it, 'cause y' like talkin' t' Remy."

"Damn it!" She sat back down. "I hate your guts, Swamp Rat."

"Remy knows, _chere_." His eyes twinkled. "Remy knows."

"I just… kinda miss her. And I didn't even know her." She sighed. "And I feel bad for my old friends. And I can't make myself be nice to everyone else when Wanda's always talking to me in my head, so I end up being a bitch and hurting everyone."

"Den tell someone dat c'n actually help y'." Remy snorted.

"Screw you." She spat.

But it didn't mean she couldn't take his advice.

"Kurt?" Kitty poked her head into the blue boy's room. He looked at her.

"Ja?"

"Are you doing okay?" She walked in without an invitation.

"I'm fine." He answered softly. He had a picture out of Wanda, smirking at some incident happening off-camera. It had obviously been taken while she wasn't looking.

"Where has that been this whole time?" Kitty asked, running a hand over his to trace the picture.

"In my dresser drawer." The elf answered honestly. "I miss her, _Katzchen_."

"Here." She propped it on his bedside table. "Now you can, like, see her every day." When he obviously wasn't convinced, she faltered. "Well… Like, her picture, but maybe it's time you, like, admitted that you liked her, and stuff…"

"You babble when you're nervous." Kurt laughed softly.

"You laughed!" Kitty squealed and hugged him.

"Um… Ja?" He looked at her strangely.

"Well you haven't laughed since, like… Um… Yeah…" She mumbled sheepishly. He stared at her blankly. "Maybe we're all, like, healing… Cuz, y'know, we can, like, act more normal now and stuff…"

Healing. Kurt liked the idea of healing his wounds. He'd never forget Wanda Maximoff, his first true love. But he couldn't hold onto her forever. At one point, he had to let go. Not that day- it was far too soon. But it was comforting to know that he could let her go when he had to. It made the day just a little easier to get through.

_Take a deep breath._

Jean followed her own advice and took a breath before knocking softly on the door.

"Come in, Jean."

She had never really gotten used to Xavier's uncanny ability to figure out what student was at the door, even being a telepath herself. Taking another breath, she opened the door and took a step into the small office.

"Professor?" She asked. "I… Need your help."

Something about the look he gave her told her this was no surprise to him.

"I'm having… Nightmares. Every night." She began softly. "She's all I can think about, reliving her torture because no one else can. And I didn't know her. I didn't _want_ to know her!"

She paused. It felt good to finally be open, instead of dodging questions and lying to the people she cared about.

"Why am I so worked up over someone I didn't know?" She asked, a look of frustration crossing over the redhead's dace. "I don't get it!"

"Jean, you feel a connection with her." Xavier spoke surely, honestly. "You are the one that remembers her thoughts- and though you should never forget them, they cannot be the sole focus of your life. You are a wonderful student in college. Don't let an accident drag you down."

Surprisingly, a certain redhead woke the next morning to find she hadn't had a single nightmare. Maybe, just maybe, admitting you weren't perfect could help.

When Bobby found himself, once again, cornered by a questioning Jubilee, he actually considered finally telling her what was bugging him. Telling her how the blood had looked, how it had scared him, how he wondered every time he woke up if it was his last day.

But then he decided against it.

"Just tell me, Bobby!" Jubilee groaned.

"I'm fine."

"Bullshit." She rolled her eyes. "I'm sick of hearing that. Just tell me the truth!"

"It's stupid." Bobby grumbled.

"I'm getting sick of this." She huffed.

"If I tell you, you have to answer me one question afterwards."

"Okay." The Asian girl shrugged. How bad could it be?

And Bobby went on to tell her about that day.

Again, she was fighting in _his_ Danger Room, beating the crap out of some punching bag. She looked more tired than the last time- the last week had taken a toll on all of them.

He figured it best not to acknowledge her, due to their self-imposed silences.

"Hey Logan!" She called out through heavy breaths. "Your offer still stand?"

"Which one, Kid?" He raised an eyebrow, careful not to use the familiar nickname they both were used to. Lord knew the wild child went off about the stupidest things.

"If you beat me in a fight, I have to talk to you." She replied with a roll of her eyes. "If I beat you, we forget any of this shit happened."

"No way." The Wolverine shook his head. There wasn't a point. Rogue was a stubborn girl, an angry girl, and she wouldn't tell him anyway-

_CRACK!_

He was taken by surprise as he fell to the ground, the girl that had just slammed him there standing triumphantly above him.

"You so sure about that?" She asked with a small smirk.

"We'll play your way."

And, surprisingly, Logan had her tackled the next instant with literally no resistance on her side.

"I surrender." She said softly.

Healing. It was all a time of healing. It was her time of healing, even if she didn't know how to honestly ask for help. Logan could handle that. Hell, Logan kinda liked her style.

"Let's talk, Stripes."

Once again, he found himself flipping through the chapters and pages of the past week, looking at all his mistakes, critiquing, finding the things he could have done better. This was Scott Summer's weekly routine to "help himself improve".

That in itself was doubtful.

That particular week, his biggest mistake was letting Wanda die. He had replayed the scenario a hundred times over in his mind, watching the different ways he could have helped or it could have played out. Why hadn't he been playing closer attention to the situation? Why hadn't he just shot Sabretooth away and distracted the big cat?

It wouldn't have been all that hard.

"Negative self-talk." Jean accused him the minute she walked into his room.

"I'm not talking." He replied.

"That's the technical term." She smiled at him.

That radiant smile, when she was really happy, was the reason he got up in the morning. Well, one of the reasons. Watching her, looking at her for the past week, had been horrible for him. It was the worst feeling in the world to see the woman he loved in so much pain, sleeping so little, and not being able to do anything about it.

So, maybe it wasn't the death at all that had him so spooked.

"Scott, please, let it go." She was obviously prying into his thoughts. He never cared. "You can't change the past."

"I can wish." He smirked.

"What good will that do?" She demanded. When he figured out that he couldn't come up with an answer to satisfy her, she smirked. "None at all. Everyone else is finding a way to start healing- maybe it's time you did too."

"It's only been a week." He raised his eyebrow.

"Sooner rather than later." She sighed. "Besides, I didn't say forget her or get completely over it. I said find a way to start."

Start healing. Healing. Not exactly a bad idea.

And the obviously self-righteous grin on her face told him Jean had read his thoughts, and that she was in full agreement.

Kitty couldn't help but grin as she spied Bobby lean in and kiss Jubilee. In her mind, it was about time. Those tow had been making puppy dog eyes at each for far too long anyway.

But, with her newfound energy having heard Kurt laugh, she figured she might even be up for some good old teasing.

"Aw!" She squealed, running in to interrupt the moment. The duo, startled, reeled back. The blush didn't compare with the matching looks of scorn Kitty was receiving. "It's, like, about time! Jeeze, how long have you two liked each other?"

"Get a life!" Jubilee snapped. She had waited an entire _year _for this moment- and now some ditzy valley girl was ruining it for her!

"Sorry. Like, I haven't had a life since… Forever." Kitty shrugged. "I can't wait to tell everyone about our newest couple!"

"Do you think anyone's gonna care?" Bobby asked triumphantly as he thought of something. "We're all still moping about Wanda."

"Good news _always _overshadows bad feelings." Kitty waved him off. "Besides, we're recovering. Like, at a turtle's crawling pace, but recovering."

"Great."

Bobby couldn't decide if he was glad that he wasn't the only one recovering. It meant that it was _alright_ to move on with his life. But it also meant that he and his girlfriend- and, with this thought, he couldn't contain a smile- would be subject to some teasing.

"Jean! Guess what?"

Okay, a lot of teasing.

Maybe finally hitting his father was what had done it. Maybe it was finally admitting how insane he felt, how he could feel his sister watching his ever move and judging him, how she, only after death, ran everything they did. But something did it. And that something was what began the healing process.

Pietro Maximoff would never truly be over his sister's death. He could never forget the years he had shunned her, the way he hadn't wanted her, and the way she was. But he could finally look down the hall without choking and losing his mind. He could see the color red without panicking and running. He could finally _breathe_.

His sister was still haunting him. He could still feel her terrible essence oozing from the scarlet depression and grabbing him. But, maybe it wasn't so terrible to react like a normal human being.

Healing, he had come to realize, didn't mean he felt any better at all. He, in fact, felt worse than before. Healing was accepting her death. Healing was accepting that outrunning the depression wouldn't do anything but postpone it. Healing was understanding that there would always be pain but dealing with it anyway.

Healing was just accepting what was done and knowing you couldn't fix it.

And Pietro Maximoff was healing. Slowly, reaching each stage one point at a time, accepting the pain that came along with it. But he was healing.

The healing was enough that he found himself sitting with Lorna at the table. He couldn't blame her for her death. He could blame Sabretooth, his father, but not the innocent girl. Not that he exactly liked her- but, he had figured out it took too much energy to bother fighting.

"Are you alright?" Lorna pried. Again. She seemed to have this mindset of fixing the whole world.

Pietro wondered briefly if this was a legitimate reason to hate her.

"Fine. Be quiet, I'm eating."

And choking on the food. So, he hadn't quite realized how to finish healing. It was a slow process anyway.

"I'm sorry." She said helplessly.

"Stop trying to fix the world!" He snapped. "Can you not see that some people don't wanna be fixed?"

The statement seemed to sink in, because she was quiet the rest of breakfast.

Lance ran his fingers against the oak wood of the door. A sinking feeling in his stomach told him to just turn and leave. It would be much easier to just not even think about it. Just as he was about to follow that gut feeling, he recalled all the times she had been up late with him just to be there.

With a groan, he turned and opened the door in a quick sweep. Mystique had, as he had suspected, shoved Wanda's stuff into the hall closet until she could find a way to get rid of it. He could smell the cinnamon candles she would burn because she liked the color. He took in another deep breath- he had to do this. For closure. For healing.

For Wanda.

He didn't want his friend's only remains locked away in a closet. He began to slowly look through her things, smiling at some of the memories, fighting tears at others. He took small things to remember her by- one of her many gothic cross necklaces, a CD or two, one of the candles.

His hands brushed against her journal, and he glanced at the thing. He could read it. He could know every thought that had crossed her mind while she was at the Brotherhood house, every little emotion. He could invade everything that was her.

And he set it back down. It wasn't his to read. What good would it do anyway? None at all, he soon realized. It would simply depress him more.

And for the sake of healing, he slowly packed away everything he hadn't taken, and went to his room. Healing. What a concept.

Todd could smell the familiar cinnamon floating about the hallway the moment he opened his eyes. His thoughts immediately jumped to the scarlet girl. Hadn't Mystique destroyed all her stuff? If so, why did he smell her candles? He stood slowly, wandering into the hall to see Lance in his room, staring at the lit candle and listening to some of her music.

Without a thought, he walked into the room and sat next to him. It didn't disrupt the memorial of sorts. It didn't disrupt the almost peaceful scene. It simply added to it, to have another that loved her in the room.

For a moment, Todd could imagine her blue eyes sharply watching them, that soft real smile painted across her face, that soft laugh that she had. It was almost as if she was telling him to let her go.

And he knew he would have to let her go sooner or later.

With that peaceful moment with Lance, with that simple thought, a little piece of his sadness broke away and floated into the atmosphere. And for the first time in many days, he drew in a real breath and felt relaxed.

And, no matter how much he loved her, he would one day be able to let her go.

Healing. He was healing.

Freddy wasn't used to being alone in a graveyard. He had wandered his way over to her grave, to pay his last respects. He had long ago figured out that he couldn't hold on forever. He had long ago discovered that her dark form was haunted the house, and if someone didn't let her go soon, it would never leave.

He could let her go because they had never really liked one another.

Healing. A faster process for him than the others. But healing.

With a sad smile, he put the red roses on her grave and muttered a soft prayer over her headstone.

They hadn't liked each other, but he would still miss her. He would always mourn her death.

Always.

"Good bye Wanda."

With that final thought, he could move and breathe freely. Her dark form slowly released its terrifying grip on him, and he could almost hear her whisper a good bye as his spirits lifted.

And now he was hungry.

He left, leaving her to the roses and the prayer. Let her find her own way.

This was his healing. This was his good bye.

Agatha Harkness watched him go, her eyes fleeting and dark. Once she was sure he had gone, she muttered her incantation. Watching the blue dust billow around the grave after casting her spell, she watched with a soft smile.

If one listened closely, after a few moments he might hear the soft scratching of fingernails on coffin wood. He might hear the whispered pleas for help and panicked cries. But, if one were close enough to hear that, he would have been blown away by the blast of blue light that freed Wanda Maximoff from her grave.

And, as she slowly rose from her grave in her lovely funeral dress, her necklace dangling on her neck, her features restored to their original appearance, she looked around at the world and took in a deep breathe. The old woman stepped out from behind the tree.

"Agatha?"

"Yes child."

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**Again, it's been a real pleasure. I plan on writing a sequel- hence Wanda's return! Please, review for me one last time? **


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